c 

DAS  S 


LASS  2/AY 


76. 


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in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign 


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EXERCISES 


OF 


Class  Day, 


AT 


DARTMOUTH  COLLEGE, 


Tuesday,  June  27,  1876. 


HANOVER,  N.  H.: 

PUBLISHED    BY    VOTE    OF    THE    CLASS. 
1876.       • 


MARSHAL: 

George  H.  Bridgman, 

KEENE,    N.    H. 


GEO.    S.     MERRILL    <V   CROCKER,    PRINTERS,     LAWRENCE,     MASS. 


Introductory  Address. 


BY    HERBERT   D.    RYDER,    SOUTH   AC  WORTH,    N.   H. 


Once  more  has  time  with  its  restless  surges  brought  a  class 
to  the  end  of  its  course.  For  four  }fears  we  have  been  together 
— years  which  are,  or  ought  to  be,  the  best  of  our  lives — }7ears 
whose  influence  over  our  future  weal,  or  woe,  is  almost  omnipo- 
tent. We  stand  at  the  junction  of  two  widely  different  por- 
tions of  our  lives  ;  in  the  past  we  have  only  been  preparing  for 
the  future,  now  we  are  about  to  launch  upon  that  future,  to  try 
our  fortunes  on  the  wide  sea  of  practical  life.  The  degree  of 
success  which  is  to  attend  us  is  in  a  great  measure  dependant 
upon  the  manner  in  which  our  advantages  have  been  improved  ; 
but  it  is  not  always  evident  to  the  casual  observer  who  has 
made  the  best  use  of  his  opportunities,  hence  the  surprise  which 
is  often  manifested  at  the  unexpected  success  of  some  man  not 
noted  for  brilliancy  in  his  preparatory  course. 

This  day  is  specialty  ours,  and,  as  we  recall  the  thronging 
memories  of  our  }'ears  of  companionship,  let  us  all  forget  what- 
ever there  may  have  been  of  bitterness  in  our  relations,  and 
like  strong,  true  men,  dwell  only  upon  the  pleasant  aspects  of 
our  college  course.  We  meet  to-day  with  a  mingling  of  emo- 
tions ;  J03*  that  our  struggles  for  an  education  are  about  to  be 
crowned  with  success — that  we  are  so  soon  to  be  of  the  active 
workers  of  the  world's  arena  ;  sadness  because  we  are  about  to 
break  the  bonds  which  four  years  together  have  strongly  woven 
— because  we  shall  never  again  as  a  class  look  upon  these 
scenes  now  so  familiar  ;  yet  it  is  useless  to  try  to  speak  of  the 
sadness  which  our  coming  separation  throws  over  us,  for  words 
are  weak,  but  "ever}'  heart  knoweth  its  own  bitterness." 

Youth  naturally  looks  forward  with  bright  expectations  to  the 
future.  I  believe  that  there  is  sometimes  more  honesty,  more 
true  wisdom  and  more  dignity  in  a  young  man's  aspirations  for 


4  CLASS      DAY,    '76. 

the  future  than  in  an  old  man's  philosophic  retrospect.  The 
one  looks  forward  to  what  he  fondly  believes  to  be  a  life  of 
high  endeavor  and  final  success,  and  sees  all  the  future  glow- 
ing with  the  brilliant  hues  of  hope.  He  sees  but  a  single  side 
of  life ;  all  the  rest  is  theo^,  conjecture,  imagination. 

The  other  knows  life,  knows  it  from  experience,  knows  the 
promise  of  its  early  years  and  how  far  it  is  probable  that  that 
promise  will  be  fulfilled.  He  is  apt  to  be  cautious,  suspicious, 
and  to  be  embittered  b}r  the  experience  he  has  had  of  men  and 
their  selfishness  ;  he  has  awakened  from  the  dream  of  his  }'Outh. 
The  future,  of  which  he  so  fondly  dreamed  in  his  early  years, 
which  appeared  so  bright  to  his  youthful  imagination,  when  it 
came  to  be  the  present,  has  proved  to  be  not  what  he  dreamed, 
not  what  he  imagined.  The  golden  rewards,  honors,  posi- 
tion, riches,  that  he  so  eagerly  struggled  for  in  his  early  man- 
hood, have  crumbled  to  ashes  at  the  touch  of  his  eager  hands. 
The  man  of  man}'  years  deserves  respect,  his  opinions  should 
have  weight  and  the  results  of  his  experience  should  be  care- 
fully observed  by  the  }Toung  man  about  to  enter  upon  the  re- 
sponsibilities of  active  life. 

But,  shall  a  young  man  not  dream  of  the  future  ?  Shall  he 
not  have  high  aims?  Shall  he  not  cherish  lofty  aspirations  for 
future  usefulness.  You  never  see  a  man  of  ripe  experience  and 
culture  who  would  wish  to  dampen  the  ardor  of  the  young,  to 
say  to  them  that  all  their  ambitious  dreams  will  end  in  naught. 
He  realizes  the  fact  that  aspirations  are  natural  for  youth,  and 
that  a  dream  is  often  the  cause  of  its  own  fulfillment.  It  is 
eminently  right  for  a  young  man  to  aim  high,  but  each  one 
should  be  careful  that  his  object  be  noble,  pure  and  just. 

I  believe  that  the  aims  and  intentions  of  youth  are  in  the 
main  towards  the  right,  and  that  the  impulses  of  men  before 
they  become  tarnished  by  long  contact  with  the  world  are  the 
impulses  which  are  most  natural  to  humanity. 

Let  us,  then,  as  we  go  out  into  life,  keep  fresh  and  pure  these 
aspirations  of  our  youth.  Let  us,  as  the  years  pass  by,  and 
our  lives  become  more  and  more  those  of  retrospection,  remem- 
ber these  noble,  unselfish  days  of  our  college  course,  and  ever 
keep  green  in  our  memories  the  thought  of  our  years  at  old 
Dartmouth. 


Oration. 


BY  ALEXANDER  B.  CRAWFORD,  JACKSON,  MICH. 


It  is  an  excellent  thing  to  turn  our  eyes  upon  the  plucky, 
diligent  men  who  leave  their  mark  upon  their  time  and  land,  to 
find,  if  we  can,  what  their  power  is, — who  are  the  workers  and 
what  is  their  strength?  To  answer  this  question,  scrutiny  of 
actions,  merely,  will  not  do  ;  one  must  go  deeper  ;  it  is  neces- 
sary to  get  at  the  springs  of  action.  The  answer  is,  likewise, 
a  matter  of  observation  and  induction, — physical  science  not 
more  so.  We  do  not  speculate  as  to  what,  after  our  fancy, 
ought  to  be,  we  recite  what  is.  Dost  thou  appeal  to  fact?  To 
fact  shalt  thou  go. 

In  this  way  it  is  found  that  every  orator  who  speaks  to  a 
purpose  and  not  for  mere  speaking's  sake  ;  even'  reformer ; 
every  pioneer  in  an}'  great  work — Old  Testament  prophet,  or 
New  Testament  teacher  ;  all  genuine,  helpful  men  whose  names 
the  people  keep  in  their  hearts  and  pronounce  with  reverence 
and  admiration,  what  else  they  may  have,  are  possessed  of 
these  three  things  :  conviction,  indignation  and  sympathy. 
These  constitute  their  strength  ;  these  are  their  energy. 

To  consider  this  proposition  is  our  business  at  this  time. 

First,  of  Conviction.  Here  we  stand  in  the  presence  of  the 
Power  which  brings  among  men  all  victories  possible  to  human- 
ity, and  }'et  our  first  emotion  is  not  pleasure,  but  pain.  For 
there  is  that  in  the  significance  of  the  word  which  troubles 
pride.  It  implies  a  high  and  imperative  authority  other  than 
self;  it  speaks  of  stern  vassalage  indeed;  its  virtues  are  loy- 
alty, obedience,  endurance.      It  will  send  a  man  from  home 


6  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

and  kindred  ;  na}T,  it  will  bid  him  depart  from  himself,  to  go, 
not  knowing  whither,  011I3*  that  he  goes.  This  has  been  found 
a  hard  saying.  The  faithless,  the  willful,  the  seekers  of  pleas- 
ure, the  proud,  cannot  receive  it ;  they  sneer,  indeed,  but  wan- 
der ever  in  darkness  and  in  weakness.  This  strength  and 
this  light  is  not  for  them.  But  if  one  can  receive  it,  this  sub- 
mission is  a  wonderful  thing.  It  is  his  knighting,  as  in  Ar- 
thur's Court  the  brave  men  laid  their  hands  in  his,,  and 

"  The  king  in  low,  deep  tones, 

And  simple  words  of  great  authority, 

Bound  them  by  so  strait  vows  to  his  own  self, 

That,  when  they  rose  knighted  from  kneeling,  some 

Were  pale  as  at  the  passing  of  a  ghost, 

Some  flushed,  and  others  dazed,  as  one  who  wakes 

Half-blinded  at  the  coming  of  a  light," 

*  and  like  them  he  shall  be  cheered 

"  With  large,  divine  and  comfortable  words." 
Now,  we  should  know,  and  we  may,  if  we  will  look,  that 
the  ability  to  do  is  largely  measured  by  the  ability  to  suffer ; 
that  suffering  is  a  high  heritage,  and,  without  it,  is  not  any- 
thing of  the  great  things  that  are  done  ;  that  nothing  else  than 
the  song  of  sacrifice  is  the  song  of  conquest.  Now,  conviction 
onl}T  will  enable  one  to  face  this  fact  and  squarely  set  himself 
to  act  by  it.  This  will  allow  him  to  faint  or  be  slain  at  his 
work,  but  will  not  let  him  run  away  from  it,  making  him  sa}' 
with  Porapey,  "It  is  not  necessar}r  that  I  live  ;  it  is  necessary 
that  I  go  to  Rome." 

B}r  this,  too,  the  men  eminent  and  devout  in  all  the  learnings 
nobly  estimate  the  world,  not  for  what  the}*  can  get  out  of  it, 
but  for  what  they  can  do  in  it,  being  in  no  sense  seekers  of  self 
but  of  the  truth  they  adore.  It  is  the  others  who  are  men  of 
Brodwissenschaft,  the  world  around,  mere  -'  bread  and  butter" 
men. 

Through  conviction,  again,  the  eyes  are  quickened  to  behold 
the  invisible  things  in  all  their  wondrous  beauty,  in  all  their 
very  reality.  Then  indeed,  as  Taine  has  well  said,  "The  in- 
tellect becomes  manly,  no  longer  grabbing  words  mechanically 
like  a  catechism,  but  sounding  them  anxiously,  like  a  truth." 

I  said  in  the  beginning  that  this  was  a  matter  of  observation. 


ORATION.  / 

Therefore,  to  confirm  these  assertions,  I  cite  two  notable  exam- 
ples. And  the  first  shall  be  that  of  decidedly  the  most  magnifi- 
cent character  in  the  ancient  world,  the  Hebrew  Law-Giver. 
When  as  a  young  man  he  left  the  Court  of  Egypt  to  take  his 
station  among  the  Israelites,  from  what  did  he  go  and  to  what? 
He  went  from  a  eonrt,  elegant,  luxurious,  possessed  of  a  rich 
civilization,  learned  in  geometry  and  mechanics,  the  first  astron- 
omers, versed  in  medicine  and  surgery,  perhaps  the  veiy  prim- 
itive seat  of  learning,  whence  all  who  write  histories  of  sciences 
and  arts,  and  philosophies,  must  take  their  place  of  beginning. 
He  went  from  this  to  a  race  of  degraded,  brick-making,  ditch- 
digging  slaves,  who  could  neither  appreciate  him  or  his  mission, 
but,  mutinous  and  craven,  would  be  read}"  every  other  day  to 
rise  up  and  stone  him  ;  who,  at  the  hardships  for  liberty's  sake, 
would  cry  out  for  the  old  slavery  in  Egypt  if  it  brought  only  a 
slave's  food.  Such  were  the  people  he  was  to  rule  and  suffer 
for  in  the  wilderness  fort}T  years,  till  there  should  spring  up  in 
their  place  another  generation  of  brave,  hardy  men,  who,  con- 
quering the  lands  east  of  the  Mediterranean,  should  lay  the 
foundations  of  a  nation,  the  influence  of  whose  history  and 
divine  literature  upon  the  world,  who  can  tell? 

The  other  example  is  very  much  in  point  and  of  significance 
here.  In  this  later  time,  a  resolute,  brave-hearted  man  had  a 
conviction,  and,  against  the  protests  of  beloved  friends  who  de- 
plored his  "foolish,  wild  and  insane  venture,"  he  rose  to  go, 
northward,  with  oxen,  into  the  wilderness  of  the  River  Valley, 
to  begin  an  abiding  work,  in  what  pain  and  "labor  the  records 
show.  The  talk  of  "Tears  falling  like  rain  upon  the  winter 
snow"  is  no  rhetorical  embellishment,  but  the  statement  of  a 
literal  fact.  It  was  "a  voice  of  one  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness," indeed  !  But  now,  verily,  her  "  sound  is  gone  out  into 
all  lands,  and  her  words  into  the  ends  of  the  world."  "  There 
is  neither  speech  nor  language,  but  her  voice  is  heard  among 
them  !" 

Surely  the  generations  rise  up  to  call  the  conviction  and  he- 
roic toil  of  this  man  blessed.  With  unfeigned  admiration, 
they  bow  the  head  and  pronounce  with  grateful  lips  the  name  of 
Eleazer  Wheelock  ! 


8  (LASS     DAY,    '76. 

Surely,  then,  after  this,  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  of  Convic- 
tion that  courage,  decision,  diligence,  energy,  fortitude,  all  the 
manly  and  prevailing  virtues,  anchor  their  roots  in  it ;  the}' 
are  its  out-growth  and  manifestation. 

But  indignation,  looked  askance  at  by  so  man}-  and  con- 
demned, has  it  any  place  in  a  strong,  especially  in  a  righteous, 
character?  See  what  indignation  is:  no  impotent  rage,  no 
indiscriminate  and  abusive  calling  of  names,  not  anything  else 
that  marks  weak  and  blind  passion.  Neither  is  it  earnestness 
merel}',  or  enthusiasm  merety,  as  some  would  wrest  it.  Vinet 
has  grandly  defined  it:  "Indignation,  that  anger  of  the  con- 
science ! "  It  is,  therefore,  a  serene,  a  resolved  thing,  majes- 
tic— by  its  repose  invincible  ;  a  strong  thing  in  a  high  place, 
from  which  by  all  that  is  valiant  for  truth  upon  earth  it  ma}T  in 
no  wise  be  cast  down  ! 

Well,  there  is  a  lackadaisical  good-i-ness,  an  "  imbecile 
amiability,"  which  fears  anything  strong  or  positive  ;  which  is 
chiefly  concerned  to  disagree  with  nobody  ;  which  regards  any 
show  of  honest  wrath  as  something  wicked  ;  which  pets  the 
criminal  till  crime  runs  rife,  and  which,  finally,  will  deliver  the 
great  charges  of  government,  instruction,  public  morality,  and 
whatever  else  honest  folks  are  supposed  to  have  an  interest  in, 
over  to  the  knave,  resisting  at  best  with  only  a  childish,  com- 
plaining ciy.  And  this  dawdling,  vicious  sentimentalism, — 
for  it  is  not  a  sentiment — has  been  preached  up  by  its  advocates 
as  the  right  thing, — squarely  in  the  teeth  of  fact,  or  Christian 
spirit.  It  is  no  such  thing.  It  is  a  superficial,  weak  thing  that 
cannot  see  ;  the  offspring  of  an  indolent,  of  an  indifferent,  of 
an  unthinking  mind. 

Certainly  something  more  stalwart  than  this  is  required  for 
the  bitter  contests  03'  which  alone  the  great  things  are  had  and 
held.  Consider  that  living  truth,  the  truth  which  shall  arm  a 
man  for  his  work  and  cheer  him  while  in  it,  is  something  else 
than  a  dry  book — an  Analytical  Geometry,  for  instance — writ- 
ten and  laid  on  a  shelf  to  make  its  way  with  whomsoever  ma}r 
please  to  take  it  up.  It  is  an  imperious,  impetuous  force,  and 
in  its  battles  there  is  no  time  to  temper  blows.*  Consider  that 
this    nation,  now  exulting  in  the  achievements  of  its  hundred 

*Blackie. — "  Four  Phases  of  Morals." 


ORATION.  9 

years,  ia  exulting  in  the  achievements  of  the  indignant  men 
who  spurned  compromise  with  the  indignant  word,  and  resisted 
oppressor  and  subverter  alike  bjT  the  indignant  blow;  the 
achievements  of  the  Revolutionary  time,  not  merely,  but  also 
of  all  the  ages  which  were  the  preparation  for  that. 

1  said  that  indignation  was  not  an  indiscriminate  and  abusive 
calling  of  names,  but  it  is  often  a  discriminate  and  righteous 
calling  of  very  hard  names.  The  gentle  and  tender-hearted 
men,  far-seeing  and,  as  alread}'  hinted,  revering  truth,  are  most 
easily  moved  at  wrong  and  falsehood,  to  break  out  into  blazing 
wrath,  and  call  the  dastardly  doers  of  them  by  the  names  the}T 
deserve.  Luther,  whose  speech  rang  like  the  battle-ax,  Lati- 
mer reproaching  Henry  VIII.,  Bourdalone  terrifically  and  defi- 
antly denouncing  Louis  XIV.  to  his  face,  are  brave  examples  of 
this. 

Two  lesser  incidents  carry  their  own  teaching.  A  person 
sat  by  Adam  Smith,  and  talked  in  his  faint  and  soulless  way 
of  some  outrage  that  had  been  committed,  and,  when  he  de- 
parted, the  sturdy  scholar  exclaimed:  "I  can  breathe  freer 
now  that  fellow  has  gone  ;  he  has  no  indignation  in  him  ! " 
Some  may  remember  how  a  knave  made  a  tricky  exhibit  before 
a  late  Chief  Justice  of  New  Hampshire,  then  a  lawyer,  and 
asked  for  an  opinion,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  are  a  great  scoundrel !" 
That  was  the  "opinion"  and  the  whole  of  it.  Now,  that 
"opinion"  was  very  valuable,  for  the  man  paid  twenty  dollars 
for  it !  And,  if  he  made  wise  use  of  it,  no  doubt  for  him  it  was 
the  best  purchase  in  law  that  could  be. 

We  shall  find  that  indignation  stands  so  many  times  brave 
and  stalwart  at  the  crises  of  things  that  the  induction  is  this  : 
Until  its  note  sounds  strong  and  clear,  the  "  heroic  and  con- 
quering days  rise  not  in  glory  upon  the  strifes  of  the  world." 

Indignation  strikes  well  but  can  it  heal,  and  may  not  a  raw 
indignation  be  corrupted  to  a  bitterness  and  an  evil  zeal?  It 
must,  therefore,  be  tempered  with  humility  and  with  sympathy. 

Now,  of  this  grand  quality  a  great  deal  has  been  said  and 
sung,  and,  no  doubt,  in  the  hearts  of  all  people  there  is  a  great 
deal  else  thought,  better  than  anjrthing  said  or  sung.  We  are 
then  meddling  in  "great  matters  which  are  too  high  "  for  us, 
and  we  proceed  not  over  confidently.     Is  not  sympatlry  a  com- 


10  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

posite,  many-sided  power,  embracing  affection,  sincerity,  judg- 
ment and  helpfulness,  these  four  at  least?  The  ancient,  stoical 
blunder  suppressed  the  affection,  making  the  virtue  a  thing  of 
reason  and  the  will,  but,  with  the  impetus  gone,  sought  in  vain 
to  retain  the  helpfulness.  Over  against  this,  a  modern  error, 
forgetting  that  sometimes  "  Harshness  may  be  a  charit}',  and 
gentleness  a  treacherj',"  degrades  all  to  a  mere  emotion,  and 
leaves  the  glorious  power  a  paralyzed,  driveling  mockery  of 
its  former  self. 

We  go  again  to  Vinet  for  our  definition.  He  says  that  it  is 
"  the  gift  of  identifying  one's  self  with  all  sentiment,  entering 
into  all  situations,  however  opposed  to  our  own  the  former  may 
be,  however  foreign  the  latter  ;  *  *  *  that  intelligence  of 
the  soul  by  which  we  divine  the  secret  of  every  individuality, 
personal  or  collective."  Opposed  to  suspicion,  "  it  is  the  first 
condition  of  true  penetration." 

But  the  point  to  be  made  above  all  others  is  that  sympathy 
is  the  chief  spring  of  eloquence.  Shakespeare  was  the  best  dram- 
atist because  in  the  best  s}Tmpathy  with  "  all  sorts  and  condi- 
tions of  men."  The  affectionate,  helpful  man,  knowing  the 
truth  the  people  need,  stands  in  "the  midst  of  them,"  and 
teaches  them  in  it,  and  his  words  are,  "Brother  Men!" — 
"AvdpeS  dSsXqjoi. 

Seeing  the  point  they  ought  to  reach,  although  leader,  yet  as 
one  of  themselves,  he  guides  them  to  it,  and  his  words  are 
again:  "Come,  let  us  go."  Observe  how  simple  and  direct 
such  speaking  is.     It  has  no 

"  Words  of  learned  length  and  thundering  sound." 

The  man  is  too  busy  for  that,  like  Latimer,  he  speaks  for  the 
"sake  of  doing  work."  He  believes  what  Dr.  Loring  wisely 
said  here  two  years  ago  :  "The  day  for  mere  rhetoric  has  gone, 
if  it  ever  had  a  da}^,  and  it  now  remains  for  every  man  to  set 
forth  in  simple  and  striking  phrase  the  truth  as  best  he  can." 
He  is  the  illustration  of  John  Milton's  definition:  "  True  elo- 
quence I  find  to  be  none  other  than  the  serious  and  hearty  love 
of  truth  ;    »     *  the  fervent  desire  to  know  good  things, 

.Mini  the  dearest  charity  to  infuse  the  knowledge  of  them  into 
others."  By  sympathy  the  eloquent  man  catches,  to  utter  in 
fitting   phrase,   whal   the  common   heart  thinks,  but  what  the 


ORATION,  11 

common  lips  strive  in  vain  to  articulate.  Without  it  all  at- 
tempts al  speaking  must  end  in  chagrin  and  defeat.  Without 
it  -lone  will  be  given  when  bread  is  required;  and,  naturally 
enough,  no  thankfulness  or  enthusiasm  comes  of  that.  For  the 
sympathetic  man  to  "keep  silence  from  good  words  is  pain 
and  grief"  to  him  ;  his  "  heart  is  hot  within  "  him;  the  "fire 
kindles,"  and  he  speaks. 

"Gentlemen,"  said  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England, 
after  the  death  of  Wesley,  "  What  we  preach,  he  lived."  More 
than  eloquence  of  the  lips  is  the  eloquent  life.  Sympathy  is 
the  fountain  of  that,  too ;  of  that  diligent  strife  to  become 
much,  in  order  to  help  much.  For  a  man  to  stand  in  the  pres- 
ence of  any  distress  and  know,  that  on  account  of  his  own  trans- 
gression, or  indolence  merel}*,  the  manly,  encouraging,  helpful 
word  must  die  upon  his  lips  ;  that  his  arm  has  no  longer  strength 
for  the  helpful  deed — that  is  sorrow. 

Here,  then,  is  our  problem :  these  elements  given,  to  build 
the  man, — a  man  not  facile  or  plausible  ;  not  a  man  of  expe- 
diency or  of  craftiness,  but  a  diligent,  dutiful,  helpful  man  ; 
no  time-server,  glossing  over  disagreeable  facts,  but  a  man, 
who,  standing  fair  and  square,  will  acknowledge  their  existence 
and  go  with  a  good  courage  to  meet  them  as  he  ought. 

"  Because  Right  is  Right,  to  follow  Right 
Were  wisdom,  in  the  scorn  of  consequence." 

Verily,  he  shall  be  a  light,  kindled  and  shining. 


Poem 


BY  JOHN  WALTER  STAPLES,   WELLS,  ME. 


My  song,  unlike  in  theme  the  ancient  lays, 

Which  won  for  poets  the  eternal  praise 

Of  men,  and  crowned  their  foreheads  with  the  bays 

The  men  of  other  times  and  other  days 

Are  proud  to  honor,  while  the  songs  they  sung, 

Translated  into  every  Christian  tongue, 

Have  power  to  arouse  the  heart  and  soul 

To  noble  deeds  of  honor  and  control ; 

Make  wise  the  head,  in  purity  of  mind 

Life  happ}',  simple,  cultured  and  refined. 

My  song,  although  it  ne'er  expects  the  name 

That  gives  immortal  glory,  or  the  fame 

Capricious,  which  seeks  the  lucky  few — 

Denies  to  most  the  justness  of  their  due, 

Yet  it  would  seek,  with  simple,  hopeful  trust, 

Some  lessons  for  the  future  :  be  they  just — 

M}T  earnest  prayer.     With  hope  expectant 

Awaits  my  heart,  the  result  triumphant, 

When  time  in  ceaseless  rounds  shall  give  to  earth 

Each  man  his  due — to  worthy  man  his  worth. 

Four  years  on  pinions  swift,  with  speed  of  wiug, 

Have  flown  ;  the  pleasure  or  the  pain  they  bring — 

We  know  the  measure  of  our  deeds.     Well  fought 

lias  been  the  battle  ;  we  have  only  sought 

The  right  and  true.     Can  this  t lie  verdict  be: 

In  heart  of  hearts  with  Cod  and  you  and  me? 

Then  know  full  well — the  cost  however  great, 


POEM, 


13 


Rewards  however  small — a  rich  estate, 

More  ooble  than  the  treasures  of  the  great, 

Is  our  possession.      Not  by  rank  alone 

Is  merit  measured.     High  behold  a  throne 

To  duty,  deep  planted  in  the  human  heart 

Beyond  the  reach  of  reason,  the  grace  of  art. 

There  conscience,  born  with  man,  was  placed  as  king 

To  judge  of  all,  not  by  the  marks  the}'  bring 

Forever,  soon  erased  ;  but  each  man's  part 

Is  judged  b}T  the  markings  on  his  heart. 

The  past  is  gone  ;  the  future  is  in  store. 

From  scenes  of  student  life  the  harsh  world's  door 

Recoiling  bids  us  forth  to  bravety  fight 

For  Justice,  Liberty  and  Freedom's  right. 

We  pause,  we  hesitate,  to  cross  the  sill 

Of  that  wide  door,  for,  be  there  good  or  ill 

For  us  beyond,  how  can  we  tell?     Fierce  strife, 

Base  slander,  malice,  everywhere  are  rife 

With  schemes  to  drag  down  worth,  true  honor  shame, 

And  in  the  mire  pollute  the  purest  name  ; 

When  scribblers,  busy-bodies  and  the  press 

Pursue  the  few  who  ne'er  the  laws  transgress, 

Till  men  believe  that  virtue  is  a  lie 

Since  calumny's  foul  breath  sends  forth  the  cry, 

That  gains  and  grows,  and,  growing,  will  not  rest 

Till  to  its  fury  falls  the  nation's  best. 

Be  it  the  task  of  one  to  wield  the  pen 
In  journal's  might, — to  guide  his  fellow-men 
To  worthy  deeds  should  be  the  highest  aim, 
To  lead  their  feet  to  tread  the  path  of  fame, 
While,  raised  a  beacon  light  of  life  on  high, 
The  awful  warning,  man  was  born  to  die, 
Was  born  with  subtle  mind,  a  priceless  soul 
That  ever  lives.     Eternities  may  roll, — 
The  revolutions,  marked  by  rolling  sun, 
Will  never  see  its  life  but  just  begun. 
Thy  task  so  deeply  fraught  with  woe  or  weal 
To  all  the  race,  stamp  deeply  with  the  seal 


14  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

Of  power  ;  let  no  chances  in  the  din 
Of  battle  fail ;  wink  not  at  deeds  of  sin 
That  cry  to  Heaven  for  an  avenger's  hand 
To  come,  to  purge,  to  cleanse  the  wicked  land. 
Gird  on  thyr  armor  at  the  bugle's  call 
For  combat ;  let  the  world  behold  thee  fall 
With  face  to  foe,  with  purpose  in  the  e3'es 
That  makes  the  valiant  hero  when  he  dies. 
.    As  when  the  Greek  of  old  met  foreign  wave 
That  Xerxes  realms  in  surging  billows  gave, 
Or  in  a  pass,  or  on  the  ocean  strand, 
Fought  bravely  for  his  own  dear  native  land, 
Was  sure  the  Gods  on  Mount  Olympus  high 
Would  well  reward,  if  he  but  nobly  die. 
While  shades  of  Hades,  spirits  sad  and  black, 
Await  for  cowards,  follow  in  their  track, 
Drive  pleasures  hence,  forbid  this  life  to  please, 
Give  torments  here,  that  nevermore  will  cease — 
Turned  not  his  back,  that  falling  he  might  show 
He  fell  with  honor,  foe  against  the  foe. 
Thus  he  should  toil  who  stands  in  foremost  place, 
To  guide,  to  teach,  to  mold  the  human  race, 
With  pen  in  hand,  with  soul  aglow  with  fire, 
Be  thou  a  laborer,  worthy  of  the  hire  ; 
And,  with  a  tongue  of  flame,  of  righteous  scorn, 
Rebuke  the  vice,  for  sad  destruction  born. 
This  land,  oppressed  beneath  the  servile  yoke 
Of  part}^  power,  threatened  with  the  stroke 
Of  vengeance  dire,  that  in  consuming  wrath 
Will  send  the  shafts  of  Jove  across  the  path 
Of  hirelings,  who,  for  wealth,  high  place  and  gain, 
Their  country's  honor  sell,  do  not  refrain 
From  deeds,  however  base,  however  vile, 
That  they  ma}''  win  the  fleeting,  gracious  smile 
Which  ornce  gives,  demands  the  herald's  notes 
Of  warning,  borne  from  north  to  south  b}r  throats 
Of  Stentor's  might,  while  echoes  east  and  west 
The  valiant  good  demand  by  rich  bequest 
Their  fathers  gave  in  holy  freedom's  fight  t 


POEM.  15 

To  battle  manfully  for  God  and  right. 

Inventions  deep  in  art,  in  science  formed 

The  hills  through  ages  which  the  clouds  have  stormed, 

Ravines  where  might  omnipotent  was  wrought, 

And  man  the  strength  divine  is  grandly  taught ; 

The  breadth  of  mighty  waters,  wide  no  more, 

Since  span  and  arch  unite  far  shore  to  shore ; 

The  mighty  works  that  grace  the  nations'  soil ; 

The  mighty  deeds  worked  out  b}T  sweat  and  toil — 

These  all  attest  the  the  true  Shekinah  man, 

Whom  covenant  of  God  gave  rainbow  span. 

A  rich-set  gem  in  beaut}^  placed  on  high, 

Encircling  wide  the  mercy  of  the  sky. 

How  great,  how  strong  these  aids  to  bear  the  thought 

Of  heart  and  brain  from  town  to  town  ;  so  wrought 

Into  the  nation's  life  and  flesh  and  bone, 

That  never  despot  sat  on  Eastern  throne 

With  half  the  royal  pomp,  the  regal  sway, 

The  pen  of  Journalism  exerts  to-da}r, 

When  all  imbued  with  wisdom's  heavenly  light 

Confess  its  scope,  and  own  all  great  its  might. 

The  law,  the  road  of  man}-  to  renown, 

To  that  high  reach  of  power  that  will  crown 

The  silver  hair,  the  hoary  temples  old, 

With  honors,  with  the  praises  manifold 

Of  thankful  hearts,  as  ages  }Tet  to  come 

Their  deeds  shall  read,  recorded  as  the  sum 

Of  all  the  greatness,  marble  shaft,  and  scroll 

To  after  generations  can  unroll. 

The  law  with  holy  sanction  from  on  high 

Rolls  back  the  curtain  drawn  across  the  sky 

And  in  the  light  of  bright  meridian  day 

To  youth  and  purpose  points  the  shining  way 

That  leads  to  noble  acts  far,  far  above 

The  common  level,  to  noble  deeds  of  love. 

High,  even-handed  Justice  sits  in  state, 

And  from  her  robes  drives  far  away  the  hate 

That  wrongs,  that  sends  the  arrow  to  the  heart, 

With  venom  poisoned,  aching  with  its  smart. 


16  (LASS    DAY,    '7G. 

Her  throne,  supported  by  the  rights  of  man, 

Is  but  a  t}rpe,  an  after-coming  plan 

Of  Justice  imperial  above  the  skj-, 

That  bids  this  man  to  live,  that  man  to  die. 

The  justice  reaching  far  from  God  all-wise, 

Is  dimly  seen  ;  the  blind  distorted  eyes 

Of  men,  what  seems  so  hard,  so  void  of  love, 

Think  not  a  benediction  from  above, 

The  purpose  of  a  prime  controlling  will 

That  sends  no  harm,  that  marks  not  airy  ill, 

When  love  and  kindness  do  their  noble  part 

To  cleanse,  to  wash,  to  lead  the  wayward  heart. 

The  goddess  Justice  with  her  throne  on  earth 

Is  purity  personified,  in  birth 

Divine,  omnipotent  as  from  the  seat 

Where  all  the  attributes  of  Godhead  meet. 

Bring  forth  to  light  of  day  the  mighty  scroll : 

Brush  off  the  dust  of  ages  ;  now  unroll 

And  read  the  names  of  warriors  strong  and  true 

Who  gave  no  more,  no  less,  but  just  the  due, 

To  Justice  ;  did  not  seek  by  scheme  and  flaw 

To  blind,  to  kill  the  righteousness  of  law. 

Men  just  and  true,  a  race  of  giant  mold  ; 

Interpreters  of  doubtful  manifold 

Decrees  :  what  prince,  what  peasant  of  the  earth 

Does  not  }Tour  power  own,  confess  your  worth? 

This  life,  with  all  its  charms,  its  grace  to  please, 

Bids  virtue  come  and  wickedness  to  cease ; 

Gives  to  the  home,  the  cheerful  household  heart, 

Newr  joys  to  form,  new  pleasures  to  impart, 

While  Justice,  from  her  seat  serene  on  high, 

Beholds  them  nobly  live,  serenely  die. 

Who  from  this  peace,  this  happy,  loving  home 

Goes  forth  in  youth  in  foreign  lands  to  roam, 

Too  often  in  his  tears  and  glistening  eyes 

Arc  pictures  of  the  bright  and  tranquil  skies 

Whose  beauty  set  in  crystal  orbs  looked  down 

To  grace  his  birth,  his  natal  day  to  crown. 

This  is  the  priceless  boon  that  Justice  gives, 


17 


That  in  her  laws  the  humbles!  yeoman  lives, 

That  when  in  sleep  he  lays  his  body  clown 

He  calmly  rests,  and  fears  no  kingly  frown  ; 

Dreams  of  his  wealth,  his  cultivated  soil, 

The  products  of  his  labor  and  his  toil. 

Arises  to  his  task  prepared  to  dare, 

To  struggle  np,  to  mount  another's  chair  ; 

Regards  no  hindrance  set  against  the  road 

That  leads  his  steps  to  reach  the  high  abode. 

That  youth  in  dreams  beheld  a  castle  grand 

For  princes  built,  his  own  b}r  his  command  ; 

lie  wearies  not,  but  urged  with  strong  intent 

His  task  pursues,  on  lofty  purpose  bent, 

Till  standing  on  the  skiey,  mountain  top 

The  goal  he  sought — the  place  where  all  must  stop. 

He  looks  around,  and,  to  his  great  surprise, 

Beholds  a  nation  spread  before  his  eyes. 

And  on  the  landing  of  the  topmost  stair 

He  sits  ensconced  in  presidential  chair. 

"Let  Chase's  robes  on  no  mean  shoulders  fall," 

The  poet  sang :  how  weak,  howr  meanly  small 

In  aspirations  pure  and  matchless  grace, 

The  sons  to  don  his  robes  to  fill  his  place. 

Still  deep  inscribed  on  every  living  heart — 

That  man's  himself  to  do  his  given  part ; 

Can  mould  and  fashion  at  his  sovereign  will 

To  work  the  greatest  good  or  basest  ill. 

Let  none  despair  that  such  has  been  before  ; 

It  should  support  and  urge  him  on  the  more 

To  struggle,  reach  the  place  of  highest  aim, 

Record  his  deeds  and  leave  a  loved  name, 

A  name  re-echoed  through  all  coming  time 

In  memonT  dear  for  noble  acts  sublime, 

This  is  the  place  that  none  despair  to  gain 

Who  in  their  lives  let  sternest  justice  reign 

While  tender  mere}7  works  its  healing  wa}r 

And  every  act  is  bright  as  cloudless  day. 

Ye  sons  of  Dartmouth,  hear  the  earnest  call 

The  silent,  honored  dead  send  forth  to  all. 


18  (LASS    DAY,     '76. 

To  up  and  man  with  old  Achilles'  might, 
To  fight  for  justice  and  the  laws  of  right, 
To  nobly  stand  against  insidious  foes, 
Shield  off  the  darts,  the  arrows,  which  the}'  throw, 
Till  trumpets'  blast  announce  the  victory  won, 
The  Master's  plaudit,   "  true  and  faithful  son." 
A  nobler  yet  to  grace  the  Christian  age 
Than  son  of  science,  or  the  Grecian  sage 
Who  taught  philosophy  almost  divine 
Beneath  the  lofty  fane,  the  pagan  shrine, 
Who  wove,  as  weaves  a  spider  from  within 
A  web  of  beauty  finely  drawn  and  thin, 
A  system  grand  with  philosophic  might 
We  wish  our  own,  so  near  it  is  to  right ; 
Yes,  noblest  far,  the  mightiest  of  all 
Who  ranks  with  wealth  and  station  low  and  small, 
Of  grace  the  herald,  minister  divine, 
Let  precept  upon  precept,  line  on  line, 
The  message  be  that  faith  in  God  would  give 
To  bid  the  wayward  home,  the  sinner  live  ; 
To  turn  a  human  soul  in  fallen  estate, 
From  Heaven  estranged,  abiding  in  its  hate, 
To  tread  the  narrow  path,  the  shining  way, 
Forgiveness  ask,  and  to  "Our  Father"  pray. 
Lives  in  the  Master's  work  have  been  so  spent, 
That  as  the  incense  of  their  deeds  up  went 
To  Him  who  gave,  the  angels  of  the  skies 
Gave  thankful  adoration  for  their  lives, 
In  music  grand  and  sweet  to  mortal  ears. 
As  we  have  heard  "The  music  of  the  spheres," 
The  heavenly  choir  in  anthem  song  acclaims  : 
"The  Lord  is  God.     The  Lord  Jehovah  reigns." 
Shout :   "Welcome,  spirit,  to  a  seat  above, 
At  God's  right  hand,  through  Christ's  undying  love.' 
%  While  heartfelt  grief  for  all  their  priceless  worth, 
In  sorrow  bow  their  brothers  still  on  earth  ; 
And  as  to  dusl  arc  given  these  valiant  dead, 
How  hearts  are  lorn,  what  scalding  tears  are  shed, 
While  praise  to  God  for  treasure  of  their  lives 


POEM.  19 

Ascends  to  Heaven,  and  still  the  dead  survives. 

Such  there  have  been  the  priest,  the  prophet,  seer 

To  point  to  God,  and  chock  the  gushing  tear; 

To  teach  the  Lonely  of  a  home  above  ; 

The  sin-sick  soul  that  Heaven  is  011I3-  love  ; 

The  seed  of  truth  in  human  hearts  they  sow, 

In  pagan  lands,  and  midst  the  haunts  of  woe, 

Lift  men  from  vice,  and  out  of  foul  estate, 

To  cast  otf  sin,  their  former  actions  hate  ; 

Make  lives  of  trust,  the  noblest  of  their  kin, 

From  dens  of  want  and  palaces  of  sin. 

A  model  preacher  in  the  days  of  3'ore, 

As  messenger  of  God  to  Grecian  shore 

The  tidings  glad  of  Gospel  truth  divine 

Declared  to  Athens,  while  the  worshipped  shrine 

Of  Gods  and  Goddesses,  revered  by  law, 

The  minds  of  men  securely  held  in  awe, 

And  superstition,  mighty  in  its  reign, 

Forbade  the  sacrilegious  hand  profane 

The  holy  rites,  the  mysteries  sublime, 

So  dear  to  hearts  through  song  from  ancient  time. 

Let  Paul  on  Hill  of  Mars  the  model  stand, 

The  type  to  preachers,  unctioned  03^  the  hand 

Of  God's  commissioned  one,  to  tell  abroad 

The  story  of  the  cross,  the  risen  Lord, 

And  Areopagus  forever  rise 

Majestically  grand  to  vaulted  skies. 

A  vision  grand  from  out  expanse  of  air 
That  seemed  an  angel  beautiful  and  fair, 
Appeared  before  the  poet's  dreamy  eye  ; 
Unrolled  a  scroll,  methought,  from  out  the  sky  ; 
Seraphic  light  shone  round  the  angel's  face, 
And  lighted  with  a  halo  all  the  place. 
The  angel,  with  a  look  and  pointed  hand, 
A  smiling  face,  and  gesture  of  command, 
Points  to  a  wreath,  surrounding  crucifix, 
On  inner  side,  the  magic  seventy-six, — 
Soon  vanishes,  with  still  the  pointed  hand, 


20  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

Far  out  of  sight  to  upper  spirit  land. 

Behold  above,  extending  far  around, 

The  names  with  flowers  thickly  inwoven  I  found, 

A  star  of  hope,  and  not  of  death,  the  name 

Of  each  allotted  to  the  niche  of  fame. 


Ring  long  and  loud,  old  bell, 

To  sky  and  air  ; 
Let  peal  on  peal  raised  high 
Send  forth  the  joyful  cry, 
Till  all  the  land  shall  tell 

How  bright,  how  fair  ! 

How  fair  are  all  thy  \va3-s  ! 

To  heaven  and  earth 
Let  lyre  and  voice  and  strain 
From  shrine  and  lofty  fane 
Lift  high  the  song  of  praise, 

To  tell  thy  worth. 

Let  "vox  clamantis"  speak 

From  }^onder  bell ; 
Ring  forth,  both  loud  and  long, 
The  burden  of  our  song. 
We  feel  too  mean  and  weak 

The  theme  to  tell. 


Address  to  the  Class. 


BY  JOHX  FOSTER,  BEDFORD,  X.  //. 


Classmates  : — The  gates  are  ajar  ;  and  here  at  the  close  of 
our  College  life  we  have  paused,  to  receive  the  benediction  of 
the  Institution,  and  when  all  else  is  done,  to  sa}T  to  one  another 
farewell. 

Whatever  of  joy  we  anticipate  in  after- times,  I  feel  that  this 
word  spoken  on  this  occasion,  will  fall  from  no  one  of  }tou  with- 
out a  sincere  regret  that  it  indicates  departure  from  these 
pleasant  ways,  separation  from  our  instructors  and  these  vener- 
able halls  ;  that  by  it  our  social  ties  are  severed,  with  it  the 
life  of  the  Class  is  dead;  that  here  the  "the  golden  bowl  is 
broken,  the  pitcher  is  broken  at  the  fountain." 

Measuring  the  occasion  by  these  circumstances,  we  are  im- 
pressed with  the  conviction,  that  aside  from  those  emotions  at 
parting,  there  are  other  facts  which  seem  to  stamp  it  as  an 
event  of  serious  moment  in  the  career  of  each  individual  who 
closes  with  these  ceremonies  his  course  of  academic  study. 

The  experience  which  awaits  us  is  a  new  one,  its  duties  are 
new  to  us,  and  in  this  life  to  come  we  look  in  vain  for  a  beckon- 
ing star,  or  some  guiding  sign.  To  the  great  world  of  men,  and 
their  answers  are  but  questions  in  riddles  ;  to  the  spirit  of  our 
age,  but  like  olden  oracles  its  responses  are  equivocal ;  to 
science,  but  here  the  voice  of  formula  is  dumb  ;  to  religion,  and 
its  answer  is  too  often  of  the  beaut}-  of  church  and  the  tension 
of  creed. 

We  seek,  then,  an  inference  from  all  these,  and  the  verdict 
is  :  there  is  no  desthry  but  the  fruit  of  honest,  honorable  action  ; 
no  true  chart  but  the  voice  of  conscience  ;  that  life's  action  is 
not  mimetic  ;  its  contests  are  not  visionary  ;  its  aims  are  not 
at  ideal  fancies.      It  is  the  stern  reality-  of  being ;    it  is  the 


22  (LASS    DAY,    '76. 

chosen  field  which  God  has  given  to  man,  wherein  to  build  up 
manhood,  and  stamp  the  glory  of  his  Creator  on  the  record  oi 
his  thoughts  and  deeds. 

This  is  duty  in  its  highest  sense  ;  this  is  the  scholar's  mis- 
sion ;  it  is  the  Maker's  thought  and  design. 

The  sphere  of  }our  action  will  be  essentially  broad  ;  your 
callings  will  be  diverse.  Hereafter  we  ma}-  point  with  pride  at 
names  which  have  adorned  theology  or  medicine,  honored  the 
bar,  attained  greatness  in  diplomacy,  or  ennobled  themselves 
in  teaching  wisdom  to  their  fellow-men. 

All  these  are  different,  each  from  the  others  ;  unlike  in  men- 
tal requisite  and  agenc}T.  But  they  are  all  the  scholar's  duties, 
and  I  believe  that  behind  learning's  standard  there  are  quali- 
ties exacted  in  every  calling,  without  which  wisdom,  talent  and 
genius  must  wither  to  a  skeleton  of  empty  names. 

It  is  true  that  oar  mission  in  these  halls  was  to  study  the 
relations  of  mental  power  to  success,  to  model  the  pattern,  to 
learn  the  scope  and  acquire  the  influence  of  the  educated  mind. 

To  this  purpose  we  have  studied  the  mental  man,  till  our 
fancy  seems  to  picture  in  his  noblest  works  the  perfection  of 
his  Maker's  design.  Man's  mind  has  conceived  and  established 
the  existence  of  a  divine  power  throned  over  an  infinite  uni- 
verse ;  it  has  grappled  science  till  it  has  conquered,  and  again 
the  Sphinx  is  answered  ;  it  has  sought  and  found  the  golden 
bough,  and  art  is  no  longer  a  mystery. 

These  all  are  sources  of  pride,  and  evidences  of  power,  but 
I  believe  that  in  that  great  field  where  all  alike  are  teachers  and 
pupils,  in  those  skillful  arts  by  which  each  shall  inscribe  his 
record  and  character  on  the  monuments  of  the  age,  the  secret 
of  success,  the  source  of  true  influence,  the  vitality  of  man- 
hood, the  foundation  elements  of  the  ideal  man,  are  be}Tond 
the  influence  of  all  of  these. 

The  quality  which  I  present  as  demanding  especially  the  cul- 
tivation of  educated  men  is  self-love,  not  in  its  ordinary  inter- 
pretation, for  that  implies  not  a  source  but  a  lack  of  manliness. 
Rather,  that  honor  of  self  which  guards  the  conscience  from  all 
wrong,  supports  and  strengthens  the  purity  of  the  heart,  and 
by  so  endowing  morality,  integrity  and  justice,  rears  up  a  bul- 
wark to  manhood  which  no  earthly  power  can  destroy. 


ADDRESS    TO    THE    (LASS.  23 

By  that  influence  which  prompts  men  to  respond  earnestly  to 
conviction,  their  noble  traits  have  sprung  forth  in  glorious  his- 
toric deeds,  and  the  ages  which  mark  the  contests  of  mind  award 
victory  ever  to  those  opinions  and  deeds  which  portray  an  hon- 
ored and  guarded  conscience.  It  is  the  discipline  of  true  self- 
love  that  develops  the  purely  conscientious  nature,  the  source 
of  inflexible  virtues  whose  impress  is  stamped  indelibly  on  the 
character  of  all  those  whom  history  and  the  world  revere. 

In  these  days  of  gilded  domes  and  doubtful  creeds,  when 
men  worship  in  churches,  and  talk  of  "  star-eyed  science,"  say 
it  "rules  the  world,  forever  has  ruled  it,  shall  rule  it,"  when 
from  lord  to  minion  the  term  self-love  assumes  almost  univer- 
sally a  detested  meaning,  when  society  is  drugged  with  pedant- 
ry and  egotism,  when  the  highest  occupations  and  efforts  seem 
to  bespeak  the  motive  power  of  avarice,  when  men  talk  of  vir- 
tue as  a  lingering  tradition  of  the  past,  and  the  standard  of 
morality,  integrity  and  honest}'  has  partaken  largely  of  the  hol- 
low artifice  of  the  age,  it  may  seem  strange  indeed  that  I  ap- 
peal to  the  conscience  of  men. 

But  I  do  it  under  the  delusion  it  may  be,  that  science  does 
not  rule  the  world,  has  not,  shall  not.  I  do  it  in  the  hope  that 
this  corrupted,  bribe-eating,  political  age  may  be  reformed.  I 
do  it  in  the  hope  that  you,  my  Classmates,  may  go  forth  com- 
mitted to  no  allegiance  but  to  honor  ;  that  your  motive  thoughts 
may  be  pure,  and  true  to  honesty  ;  that  your  words  ma}*  be  as 
a  battle-axe  of  truth  ;  and  your  deeds  a  noble  part  of  that  his- 
tory  which  shall  record  the  decline  of  an  age  whose  principles 
were  moulded  by  a  scientific  morality,  and  the  dawning  of 
another,  whose  creed  shall  be  the  true  worship  of  the  heart ; 
whose  pride  shall  be  the  triumph  of  honest}* ;  whose  code  shall 
be  truth  ;  and  whose  motto  shall  be  justice  to  all. 

True  self-love  regards  the  individual  only  as  related  to  his 
influence  for  good  in  the  world.  To  this  it  dedicates  the  emo- 
tions of  the  heart  which  it  purifies  ;  it  devotes  to  it  the  energy 
which  it  creates  ;  it  binds  the  same  by  stronger  ties  to  sym- 
pathy with  the  body ;  it  renders  the  man  a  might}*  shield  for 
the  defense  of  the  right ;  it  arms  his  character  with  the  strongest 
weapons — virtue,  moral  courage  and  integrity.- 


24  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

These  are  the  axioms  of  human  excellence,  make  them  pre- 
dominant and  they  bespeak  the  ideal  man.  Such  attributes  are 
not  the  fruit  of  education,  the}T  are  God-given  graces.  By 
wisdom  we  are  trul}T  enlightened  only  in  the  light  of  these. 

Let  us  nourish  them,  Classmates,  may  we  place  nothing  before 
them  ;  let  us  regard  these  unfading  features  of  character  as  the 
masters  of  our  thought  and  the  arbiters  of  our  deeds  :  let  us 
make  them  a  synonym  of  our  faith,  and  ever}r where  in  life's 
contests  battle  chivalrously  in  their  cause.  Ever  on  virtue's 
side  wage  war  and  make  no  compromise  with  wrong,  and  when 
our  times  shall  have  drifted  away  among  other  ages,  and  3*0111* 
deeds  shall  have  become  history,  therein  shall  be  written  the 
worth  of  your  manhood,  the  honor  of  }*ou  and  such  as  }*ou. 

Classmates,  the  duties  of  College  life  are  done.  Henceforth, 
save  perchance  a  lingering  memor}*,  we  shall  exist  here  only  in 
the  record  which  by  our  conduct  we  have  achieved.  And  as 
we  linger  amid  these  parting  scenes,  we  feel  that  we  would 
open  again  the  book  that  now  is  sealed,  again  recur  to  those 
traditions  which  endear  us  to  one  another.  Our  hearts  beat  in 
sympathy  as  we  recall  them.  These  days  of  sunshine — how 
jo3*ousl3*  we  sung  awa3*  the  golden  hours. 

Our  studies  !  how,  under  the  guidance  of  skillful  masters,  we 
noted  in  their  progress  the  growing  character  of  our  friends. 
The  darker  days,  when  clouds  have  risen  and  driven  for  a  time 
the  sunlight  from  our  ways.  All  these  come  crowding  back, 
and  choke  our  farewell  words. 

Though  these  emotions  at  separation  are  011I3*  for  the  time, 
and  will  cease  with  the  coming  of  other  duties,  let  us  often  re- 
call them  with  memory  of  our  College  cla3*s.  Let  us  not  for- 
get, or  lose  sight  of  one  another.  Let  us  hold  ever  fresh  in 
mind  the  moral  precepts  which  we  have  garnered  here,  and  as 
we  pass  out  from  the  shadow  of  these  halls,  ma3*  we  pledge 
ourselves  again  and  forever  to  that  platform  of  life,  whose  aim 
is  a  perfect  manhood,  whose  polic3r  is  honest3*,  whose  creed  is 
morality,  virtue  and  honor,  whose  watchword  is  the  founder  of 
character,  the  support  of  wisdom,  the  strength  of  the  con- 
science, self-love. 

"This  above  all,  to  thine  own  self  be  true, 
And  it  must  follow,  as  night  the  day, 
Thou  canst  not  then  be  false  to  any  man." 


Farewell  Address 

TO   THE   PRESIDENT. 


BY  M.  EUGENE  McCLARV,  NEWPORT,   VT. 


Most  Honored  Sir  : — It  has  been  well  said,  that  the  sad- 
dest words  that  man  can  utter  are  the  simple  words  "fare- 
well." On  this  day  it  comes  to  our  hearts  with  a  two-fold  sig- 
nificance, as  classmates  soon  to  separate,  and  as,  students  now 
to  bid  our  Alma  Mater  an  affectionate  "  Good  bye." 

To  you,  Mr.  President,  and  to  those  associated  with  3-ou,  as 
our  respected  instructors,  who  have,  on  occasions  like  the 
present,  bid  many  a  class  God-speed,  it  may  seem  a  trivial 
moment,  yet  for  us,  so  soon  to  pass  beyond  the  shade  of  these 
well-to-be-remembered  halls,  the  present  calls  to  memory  many 
recollections,  which  soon  will  sink  'neath  Lethe's  quiet  stream  ; 
of  boyhood  da}Ts  when  college  was,  perchance,  the  one  enchant- 
ing word  of  our  vocabular}',  or  later  when  the  thought  of  grand 
old  Dartmouth  would  send  a  thrill  of  pride  through  every  vein, 
and  quickened  with  her  fostering  touch  ambition's  germs,  till, 
to  receive  at  her  hand  the  yearned  for  prize  became  the  object 
of  our  hopes. 

Four  3'ears,  and  yet  it  seems  but  yesterday,  since  from  the 
hand  of  our  respected  President  we  received  our  Certificates  of 
admission,  and  the  Ity-laws  of  this  venerable  institution.  Did 
we  neglect  to  peruse  the  latter, — the  joy  of  their  posession  must 
be  our  excuse.  And  if  in  the  the  years  that  followed  we  have 
been  untrue  to  }Tou  and  to  ourselves,  we  crave  forgetfulness  for 
the  past  and  onlv  good  wishes  for  the  future. 


26  CLASS     DAY,    '76. 

Respected  Sir,  the  Class  is  grateful  to  you,  for  the  man}'  les- 
sons we  have  learned  from  }-our  lips,  for  your  aid  in  our  studies, 
your  words  of  comfort  in  trial's  hour.  You  have  taught  us  by 
word  and  example,  that  true  success  is  no  gift  of  the  gods,  but 
a  hard  won  prize.  Many  times  have  you  held  out  to  us  the  one 
object  of  life,  the  priceless  jewel,  and  our  hearts  unite  in  thank- 
ing 3-011.  Not  in  vain  have  your  kind  words  been  addressed  to 
us.  Our  course  nearly  finished,  but  the  race  is  but  begun,  and 
who  will  be  the  victors  and  wear  the  laurel,  the  misty  future 
sayeth  not. 

Our  instructors  have  armed  us  for  the  battle  of  life,  the 
armor  is  tried  and  true,  but  single-handed  must  we  fight.  Diffi- 
culties which  looming  high,  have  been  surmounted  in  the  past, 
can  and  will  be  met  and  conquered.  Untried,  yet  confident 
you  will  send  us  forth,  and  may  the  hallowed  name  of  our 
Alma  Mater  never  be  blemished  b}T  '76.  Nay,  but  may  we 
who  now  leave  her  watchful  care,  as  years  roll  on,  lay  honors 
at  her  shrine.  Are  we  unlike  the  bo}^s  to  whom  you  extended 
so  warm  a  greeting;  let  us  hope  the  change  is  for  the  better. 
Characters  have  been  building  and  moulding  into  new  forms, 
shaped  by  your  ripe  experience,  generous  counsel,  and  b}'  our 
ever  faithful  teachers. 

From  our  number  some  are  missing — gone  before — and  while 
we  cherish  their  memories,  may  the  principles  that  actuated 
them  guide  us  through  the  clouds  of  doubt  and  skepticism  that 
darken  the  horizon  of  the  second  century  of  our  republic,  to  a 
haven  of  rest.  Our  Alma  Mater,  true  to  her  offspring,  has 
swung  wide  the  gate  that  leads  to  the  palace  of  Truth  and  Wis- 
dom, and  points  with  ever  beckoning  to  the  rich  treasure  that 
lies  in  store  for  the  zealous  worker.  You  have  given  us  the 
password.  It  is  "  diligence,"  and  if  we  do  not  reap  the  offered 
advantages,  ours  is  the  sorrow. 

Dartmouth  has  sons  whose  names  are  known  in  all  lands — 
Ffho  bear  honor  to  her  and  to  our  President.  That  their  num- 
ber may  increase  is  the  hope  of '76. 

Again,  sir,  we  thank  you  all  for  your  kind  forbearance  ;  for 
follies  forgiven,  when  perchance  we  strayed  from  the  paths 
of  rectitude.      And  while  many  of  us  mourn  time  misspent,  we 


FAKBWELL   ADDRESS  TO  THE   PRESIDENT.  27 

remember  that  to  do  and  not  to  dream  is  man's  mission;  that 
character  and  not  reputation  is  first  to  be  desired  ;  that  there  is 
a   higher  power    than    man's   that   shapes   our    destinies. 

The  parting  moment  approaches  quickly,  and  we  must  bid 
good  by  to  Hall,  endeared  by  the  associations  of  the  past  few 
years  :  to  our  loved  Campus,  the  joy  and  pride  of  the  "  wearers 
of  the  green;"  to  these  granite  hills,  which,  pointing  upward, 
would  seem  to  urge  us  on  to  noble  efforts,  to  loftier  aspirations, 
and  to  teach  mankind  that  he  who  formed  their  rugged  sides  is 
infinite  and  grand.  To  these  all-honored  walls,  which,  had 
they  the  speech  of  man,  perchance  might  drain  the  fount  whence 
wisdom  flows,  we  bid  a  sad  farewell. 

As  time  speeds  to  eternity,  bearing  us  on  its  tireless  wings, 
the  sublime  truths  of  Nature's  Master  spoken  in  this,  his  earthly 
habitation,  will  awaken  responsive  adoration  in  our  hearts. 

In  the  future  ma}T  we  meet  again,  when  the  anniversary  day 
comes  round.  And  while  the  heroes  of  1776  are  admired  by 
all,  may  the  prodigals  of  1876  meet  with  a  warm  welcome  at 
3Tour  hands,  and  that  all  your  efforts  made  for  the  good  of  this 
institution  ma}'  be  abundantly  blessed,  is  the  prayer  of '76. 

As  our  honored  President,  our  esteemed  counsellor  and  faith- 
ful friend,  we  bid  you  farewell. 


Chronicles. 


BV  SAMUEL  MERRILL,  HA  VERHILL,  MASS. 


August  29,  1872,  was  the  beginning  of  the  career  of  our 
class,  and  would  make  a  good  exordium  for  our  written  chron- 
icles ;  so  upon  beginning  to  write  I  looked  around  to  discover 
what  remarkable  events  had  occurred  upon  the  day  of  the  year 
upon  which  our  course  in  Dartmouth  began.  But,  upon  inves- 
tigation, I  discovered  that  we  commenced  our  college  life  upon 
the  nintieth  anniversary  of  the  loss  of  the  Royal  George  ;  which 
surely  would  not  be  an  auspicious  beginning.  The  nearly  a 
thousand  who  met  their  death  upon  that  fatal  day  wouldn't 
form  a  cheerful  subject  to  digress  from, — as  some  preachers 
construct  their  sermons, — so  I  looked  further.  Upon  August 
29,  1769,  Edmund  Hoyle  died.  The  death  of  this  friend  of 
humanity,  this  gentleman  who  settles  all  our  disputes  at  the 
whist  table,  or  over  the  cribbage  board,  would  make  no  better 
text.  Especially  would  this  be  malapropos,  since  our  friend, 
the  Digamma,  has  condemned  him  as  "nothing  but  a  dem'd 
furriner,"  and  has  with  characteristic  patriotism,  recommended 
all  to  "Read  Matthews  1  Read  him  !  Read  him!"  So,  with- 
out the  benefit  of  any  historical  allusion,  I  must  proceed  to  my 
task. 

We  marshalled  sevent3'-one  men  in  Chapel  on  that  momentous 
morning.  After  four  years  we  number  sixty-nine.  Years  of 
ebriety  for  some  ;  of  "  fighting  the  tiger"  in  the  case  of  a  few  ; 


CHRONICLES.  29 

of  delinquency  in  attendance  upon  college  exercises  for  a 
Dumber ;  of  neglect  of  study  for  as  many  as  several ;  of  these 
and  the  other  crimes  and  misdemeanors  set  down  in,  and  "sat 
down  upon"  in  the  "Freshman's  Bible."  This  is  a  flattering 
commentary  upon  our — or  rather  your — shrewdness  and  inge- 
nuity in  difficulties. 

I  believe  it  was  late  that  fall  that  Ah  Sin  was  wandering 
around  one  da}T  in  an  alcoholic  atmosphere,  fearing  to  go  to 
his  room  on  account  of  his  chum,  and  he  dropped  into  the  room 
of  a  trustworthy  classmate,  and  asked  his  opinion  as  to  the 
probabilit}'  of  his  being  mistaken  for  a  sober  man.  "  O,  you 
look  all  right,"  said  his  friend.  "Look  in  that  glass  and 
see."  But  to  Ah  Sin,  in  the  condition  he  was  in  then,  any- 
thing with  a  frame  around  it  was  a  mirror,  so  he  sideled  up  to  a 
large  framed  photograph  of  President  Smith.  "Hie,"  here- 
marked,  "be  I  so  dem  drunk  's  'at?  'T  won't  do  to  g'ome  if 
I  look  so  bad  's  all  'at,"  and  he  wandered  along  again,  seeking 
after  syiupatlry  and  the  man  that  gave  him  the  last  drink. 

One  day  in  the  autumn,  about  the  time  that  Frost  and  his 
constituents,  Hardison  and  Piper,  were  scaring  each  other  out 
of  Balch's  apple  orchard,  and  Patterson  and  Paul  were  return- 
ing from  Lyme  on  Sunday  afternoons,  laden  with  pillow-slips 
filled  with  forbidden  fruit,  and  were  screening  themselves  from 
Prof.  Proctor  by  umbrellas  (also  stolen),  Cutchins  too  hunger- 
ed after  apples  which  were  not  his.  At  least  this  is  the  infer- 
ence naturally  drawn  from  hearing  him  say  one  evening  in  a 
grieved  voice,  "  I  think  Mr.  Bridgman  must  have  been  mis- 
taken when  he  told  me  that  I  could  get  some  fine  pine  apples  by 
going  to  the  Lone  Pine,  without  being  caught." 

Greeley  taught  during  our  first  winter,  but  he  wasn't  remark - 
abty  successful,  nor  very  popular,  as  a  general  thing.  You 
see  the  "deestrick"  got  a  little  prejudiced  against  him  on 
account  of  their  doubt  as  to  the  quality  of  the  instruction  which 
lit-  imparted.  This  was  owing,  possibly,  to  his  explanation  in 
American  history  that  Washington  surrendered  to  Cornwallis 
at  Lundy's  Lane.  And  this  distrust  of  his  ability  was  aug- 
mented a  little,  perhaps,  by  his  statement  that  the  figures  at 
the  top  of  a  map  indicate  latitude,  and  those  at  the  bottom 
longitude.     He  was  allowed  to  finish  out  the  term,  however, 


30  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

though  the  committee  declined  to  engage  him  for  another  ses- 
sion. GreeW's  independence  of  facts  reminds  one  of  Sher- 
burne's attempt  to  palm  off  on  Johnny  Lord  the  idea  that  the 
Red  Sea  was  located  between  Italy  and  Greece. 

Haskell  taught  Freshman  winter,  or  more  exactly  he  "  ran  a 
school,"  and  he  suspected  one  day  that  some  of  his  pupils  were 
"concocting  a  plan"  to  overthrow  his  dynasty  on  the  following 
morning.  So  he  appeared  at  the  school-house  early,  armed 
with  a  ball-bat,  and  upon  the  assembling  of  his  subjects,  he  in- 
quired if  any  of  them  "wanted  any  difficulty"  with  him.  None 
of  them  seemed  anxious  for  anything  of  the  kind,  and  one  lit- 
tle fellow  ventured  to  intimate  as  much.  But  Seppi  didn't 
borrow  that  bat  for  nothing,  so  he  remarked  that  it  wasn't  in 
accordance  with  his  "c'a'cter"  to  let  his  scholars  "answer 
back,"  and  he  called  the  young  offender  into  the  floor.  "I  te'3Te 
what,  you  don't  want  an}r  difficulty  with  me,  don't  you  !"  he 
shrieked,  and  raised  the  ball-bat  as  if  to  strike  in  a  game  of 
base  ball.  The  3*oung  wretch  suggested  that  such  was  not  his 
desire.  The  effect  of  this  second  reply  was  striking.  The 
striking  was  on  the  part  of  the  winner  in  the  consolation  race, 
and  the  effect,  the  being  struck  and  getting  knocked  through 
the  only  window  of  the  school  edifice,  and  across  a  ten-acre 
lot  without,  was  entirely  on  the  part  of  the  3Toung  mutineer. 
At  least,  this  is  the  way  Seppi  tells  the  story,  though  he  was  so 
lame  when  he  returned  to  town  in  the  spring,  that  one  could 
easily  believe  that  he  had  been  trying  to  ride  an  earthquake,  or 
else  to  subdue  the  ferocit}7  of  the  scholars  in  an  average  Ver- 
mont school. 

It  was  in  Freshman  fall  that  Bridgman  went  to  Meriden  and 
gave  utterance  to  that  celebrated  saying  of  his,  "thousands 
and  thousands  and  thousands."  You  see,  he  was  a  little  un- 
nerved by  the  water  which  he  had  been  drinking,  not  being  ac- 
customed to  it — I  mean  the  Meriden  water,  and  not  water  in 
general — and  he  was  a  little  off  his  balance.  He  was  lying  on 
the  lounge  in  the  parlor  of  the  hotel,  and  the  landlad}"  inquired 
how  many  students  there  were  in  College.  His  eyes  gradually 
closed  as  he  replied,  "Thousands  and  thousands  and  thou- 
s.nids,"  and  lie  rolled  off  on  to  the  floor,  where  he  slept  until 
he  \\:is  carried  to  the  carriage  and  brought  back  into  the  fold. 


CHRONICLES.  31 

Along  iii  the  spring  of  Freshman  year,  amongst  several 
other  things,  the  class  studied  trigonometry,  and  this  involved 
navigation.  Now,  Peabody  was  devoting  all  his  time  and 
talents  to  the  subject  of  telegraphy  ;  but  hearing  the  words 
" navigation"  and  "plane  sailing,"  he  mounted  a  new  hobby 
for  a  short  ride,  and  attacked  the  subject  with  all  energy.  If 
it  was  plain  sailing  he  surely  ought  to  be  able  to  comprehend 
it.  Peab.  got  as  far  as  sailing  on  a  rhumb-line  before  he 
met  any  difficulty  which  he  and  Loomis  and  that  "little  skiff" 
of  his  couldn't  overcome.  The  rock  on  which  Peabody's  boat 
split  was  the  subject  of  the  rhumb-line — or  more  exactly  it  was 
the  pier  of  Led}'ard  bridge,  through  the  means  of  that  subject. 
The  book  said  that  to  sail  on  a  rhumb-line  he  must  cross  every 
meridian  at  the  same  angle  ;  and  if  that  pier  wanted  to  sail  on 
a  rhumb-line  too,  and  so  got  in  the  way,  why  it  wasn't  his 
fault.  With  his  trigonometry  in  one  hand  and  the  tiller  in  the 
other,  Peab.  kept  his  craft  on  the  line  and  naturally  struck  the 
pier.  He  wasn't  going  to  betray  Loomis  and  all  his  rules  for 
the  sake  of  an}r  bridge,  so  he  struggled  on  until  a  squall  took 
his  boat  in  one  direction  and  the  current  carried  Peab.  in 
another,  and  the  victory  of  might  over  right  was  complete. 
When  he  wras  fished  out  Peabody  returned  to  his  wires  and  zinc 
plates  and  "coal-hod  batteries,"  and  remained  faithful  to  them 
until  he  discovered  the  art  of  photography.  Here  it  is  best  to 
leave  him. 

Until  the  last  of  Freshman  3rear  was  put  off  our  study  of  the 
subject  of  examination-passing.  Our  first  written  examinations 
occurred  then,  and  the  opportunity  was  improved  for  learning 
the  art  of  cribbing.  Amongst  other  episodes  which  might  be 
related  is  the  one  about  Morey  struggling  with  a  passage  in  the 
Odyssey,  not  having  in  his  first  lesson  in  the  art  ventured  so  far 
as  the  use  of  leaves  from  a  translation.  Andrews  was  sitting 
across  the  aisle,  and  "Chum,"  seeing  a  "horse-leaf"  in  his 
hand,  beckoned  to  him  for  it.  Andrews  handed  it  over,  and 
\rou  ma}'  imagine  the  disgust  of  the  member  from  Thetford  up- 
on discovering  that  it  was  only  a  tract  headed,  "  Honesty 
the  best  Polic}~." 

The  opening  of  Sophomore  year  found  a  number  of  members 
missing,   and  a  nearly   equal    number   of   new   comers   in   our 


32  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

ranks.  We  exchanged  Kimball  for  Hibbard,  Laird  for  Hunt, 
Chamberlin  and  Ernst  changed  places,  and  we  received  a  Bar- 
nard for  an  Oliver.  A  few  other  transpositions  took  place,  but 
I  don't  think  we  lost  much  by  the  transaction  for  the  loss  on 
Kimball  was  balanced  by  the  profit  on  Chamberlin,  and  the 
others  would  about  pair  off. 

We  acquired  our  knowledge  of  the  French  language  and  lit- 
erature during  the  first  term  of  the  year.  Our  instructor  for  a 
time  was  Mons.  Brandau.  (This  Flint  derives  from  "brandy" 
and  "  eait")  "  Brandy-and-water"  afforded  an  infinite  source 
of  amusement  for  the  class.  One  da}^  in  recitation,  coming  to 
the  title  of  Victor  Hugo's  book,  "  Les  Miserables"  Bridgman 
and  Jones  become  engaged  in  a  violent  discussion  as  to  whether 
the  title  should  be  translated.  Bridgman  maintained  that  it 
should  not,  and  Herr  that  it  should.  Fearing  bloodshed,  the 
question  was  put  to  a  vote  of  the  class  by  another  member. 
It  was  declared  that  the  vote  was  in  favor  of  translation, 
although  the  voting  sounded  as  if  all  the  class  and  the  rest  of 
the  College  had  voted  on  each  side.  Brand}r  governed  himself 
according  to  the  announcement  of  the  vote,  and  called  the  book 
(i  The  Miserables,"   ever  after. 

At  another  time  some  members  of  the  last  division  con- 
structed a  dummy  out  of  various  overcoats  and  a  hat,  before 
the  recitation  commenced,  and  then  awaited  the  result.  When 
the  Frenchman  was  informed  that  he  might  begin  if  he  wanted 
to,  he  looked  uneasily  at  the  dummy  and  remarked  that  "the 
gentlemen  should  remove  their  'ats."  Somebody  had  gone  up 
stairs  and  prejudiced  the  gas  against  burning,  but  the  French- 
man could  see  that  the  figure  did  not  uncover  its  head. 
"  Thees  recitassion  cannot  go  on  until  the  gentlemen  takes  off 
their  'ats!"  exclaimed  Brandy  excitedly.  If  possible,  the 
dummy  stiffened  its  back  even  more,  and  looked  as  impurturba- 
ble  as  a  wooden  Indian  before  a  tobacconist's,  but  did  not  com- 
ply with  the  Frenchman's  suggestion.  "  Sair,  you  ma}' leave 
the  room  !"  he  thundered.  "  I  mean  you  w'at  has  the  'at  on," 
he  added,  observing  the  object  still  quiescent.  By  this  time 
the  dummy  and  the  Frenchman  were  the  only  "men"  in  the 
room  who  didn't  sec  the  joke.      The   latter   was   fast  strangling 


CHRONICLES.  33 

by  his  rage  when  Borne  one  out  of  pity  knocked  the  former 
over,  and  Borne  new  plot  to  torture  Frenchy  was  begun  upon. 

Early  in  the  term  it  was  discovered  that  Hibbard,  amongst 
all  his  excesses,  his  gambling,  lying,  slandering  and  stealing, 
had  never  been  heard  to  swear.  Perry  thought  this  wouldn't 
do  ;  his  character  would  lack  symmetry  unless  he  acquired  this 
other  accomplishment.  So  Perry,  hearing  the  Poet  one  day 
abusing  some  member  of  the  Faculty  in  his  violent  way,  thought 
he  would  inveigle  him  into  profanity.  Says  he:  "Don't  }-ou 
think,  Fit,  that  old  So-and-so  [the  Professor  whom  the  Poet 
had  been  denouncing]  is  the  *  *  *  most  ignorant  old  sim- 
pleton you  ever  saw?"  and  he  made  the  adjective  just  bristle 
with  blasphemy.  "  Well,"  said  the  Poet,  "  he  isn't  very  intel- 
ligent, as  I  was  remarking,  but  I  did  once  see  a  man  in  Wash- 
ington, who,  I  think,  had  received  a  less  elaborate  education." 
Perry  was  disappointed,  discouraged  and  disgusted,  and  ever 
since  has  with  eminent  success  endeavored  to  swear  enough  to 
make. up  for  the  Poet's  deficiency. 

Hodsdon  had  a  school  that  winter  where  he  was  expected  to 
teach  five  days  in  the  week,  and  make  himself  generally  useful 
in  addition.  This  latter  duty  involved  the  charge  of  a  class  in 
Sabbath  school.  He  was  equal  to  the  emergency,  his  class  con- 
sisting of  only  one  small  boy,  and  he  managed  the  class  accord- 
ing to  the  most  approved  method,  calling  it  up  by  card,  and 
sending  monthly  accounts  of  its  progress  to  its  parents.  Get- 
ting tired  of  the  Sabbath  school  business  after  a  few  weeks, 
however,  he  separated  the  entire  class  from  the  institution  for 
"•cutting"  a  week's  duties,  explaining  to  its  parents  by  letter, 
the  distinction  between  separation  and  expulsion. 

Sophomore  year  dragged  its  slow  length  along  about  as  other 
years  have  done,  with,  perhaps,  the  cremation  of  mathematics 
the  most  conspicuous  event.  This  went  off  in  grand  style,  with 
torches,  procession,  music,  military,  funeral  pyre,  oration  b}^ 
Foster,  poem  b}r  Sayres,  address  by  Ernst,  the  ' '  plorator  prce- 
dpuus"  and  all  the  "pomp  and  circumstance"  befitting  an 
event  so  important. 

It  was  early  in  Junior  year  that  we  studied  "  Demosthenes 
on  the  Crown."  J  haven't  time  for  the  experience  of  all  the 
class  who  had  an  experience  in  disposing  of  the  subject:  but 


34  CLASS    DAY,    76. 


experience  of  a  dozen,  only  a  little  more  so.  We  will  begin 
with  his  first  examination.  An}rone  watching  him  at  work 
would  hardly  have  said  that  he  was  "  passing  fair  ;"  for  there 
were  translation  leaves  in  his  pockets,  notes  on  his  cuffs,  cribs 
in  his  boots,  hieroglyphics  on  his  finger  nails,  papers  in  his 
watch  and  a  look  of  terrified  despair  in  his  face  ;  but  all  these 
availed  not,  and  he  received  the  summons  to  signify  the  time 
when  he  would  try  it  agarn.  At  the  tenth  attempt  an  idea 
struck  him.  He  asked  the  Professor  to  read  him  the  context, 
especiall}'  what  had  preceded  the  selection,  trusting  to  his 
knowledge  of  oratory  to  suggest  the  most  appropriate  thing  to 
say  next,  and  which  he  expected  would  be  the  identical  idea 
which  struck  Demosthenes  in  the  same  connection.  The  Pro- 
fessor complied  with  his  request,  and  the  next  day  informed 
him  that  he  was  plucked  again.  After  Scut  had  been  plucked 
fifteen  times  he  got  another  idea.  He  would  from  that  time 
forth  mark  every  passage  which  was  given  him  at  his  daily  ex- 
aminations, and  when  only  one  was  left  which  he  had  not  had, 
he  would  commit  the  translation  of  that  one  to  memory  and  so 
corner  the  Professor.  His  plan  was  successful,  and  Scut  is  not 
compelled  to  graduate  on  partial  course. 

Earlv  in  the  spring — to  be  more  exact  it  was  the  first  day  of 
April — Twombly  was  seen  walking  down  the  street  from  recita- 
tion with  one  of  those  three-monthly  Post  Office  rent  bills  pro- 
truding from  his  hat-band,  with  the  word  "vacant"  in  promi- 
nent view.  This  was  told  me  for  a  First  of  April  joke,  but 
some  might  not  see  that  it  is  a  joke  exactl}',  or  that  the  First 
of  April  has  anything  in  particular  to  do  with  it,  not  consider- 
ing Twombly's  head  particularly  vacant  on  that  day. 

In  the  middle  of  April  an  examination  in  Greek  finished  our 
education  in  that  language  and  its  literature.  The  closing- 
scene  was  more  Gorgias  in  one  sense,  but  less  gorgeous  in 
another,  than  that  when  we  bade  a  tearful  farewell  to  the 
"science  of  figgering" — (as  Holt,  No.  2,  defined  mathematics.) 
A  couple  of  months  Inter  Latin  followed,  and  we  were  out  of  the 
ancient  classics  for  good  and  all. 

The  class  had  a  Junior  Ex.,  as  most  classes  have,  but  as  we 
ever    had    but    one  it  is  worthy  of  more    than    passing  notice. 


CHRONICLES.  35 

The  exhibition  began  <>n  April 28  and  lasted  several  days.  The 
most  eventful  time  was  the  evening  of  the  28th.  'Phis  was  a 
very  -oleum  occurrence  for  a  time,  but  the  sober  aspect  of  the 
ease  only  Lasted  from  the  time  the  effects  of  the  whiskey  passed 
away  until  the  effects  of  the  Faculty's  visit  disappeared,  in  the 
following  fall.  It  Is  well  now  to  recur  to  the  night  in  question 
to  Learn  the  lesson  it  teaches.  To  be  brief,  I  will  give  only  the 
state  oi'  affairs  at  the  time  when  the  Faculty  took  part  in  the 
celebration.  "  Chum"  was  in  Lieber's  room  in  the  embrace  of 
a  huge  punch-bowl ;  Lieber  himself  politely  showed  the  Faculty 
around,  undertaking  to  unlock  his  door  with  a  knife  at  the 
hinge,  and  in  a  ''tick  thongued"  voice  he  explained  the  pro- 
cess of  becoming  inebriated ;  Swiller  was  in  his  room  with  the 
Digamma,  mildly  maudlin  from  the  fumes  from  the  latter's 
breath,  and  both  were  found  by  the  Faculty,  ostrich-like,  hiding 
their  heads  in  the  bed  clothing  to  escape  capture,  the  Dig.  all 
the  while  glorying  in  its  being  "  the  most  magnificent  drunk 
ever  known  in  Dartmouth  College  "  ;  Brimmy  was  in  his  room 
in  a  Saratoga  trunk  repeating  his  Latin  oration  of  the  day,  of 
which  the  following  was  coherent  and  intelligible:  "Thomas 
Moore  et  permultis  viris  illustrissimis  quorum  res  gestae  estab- 
lishi  sunt  in  the  hearts  of  all  creation."  He  had  quoted,  "Look 
not  upon  the  wine  when  it  is  red,  for  at  last  it  stingeth  like  a 
serpent  and  biteth  like  a  snake "  ;  he  had  been  through  the 
"  chuckling  stage,"  and  had  reached  the  point  when  he  "  felt 
numb  all  over,"  and  was  spending  his  strength  in  oratory.  All 
Brimm}T,s  actions,  however,  were  so  natural  that  no  one  ever 
suspected  him  of  being  other  than  sober.  A  number  of  others 
were  in  equal  prominence  that  night,  but,  having  reputations 
for  sobriety  to  lose,  I  will  not  betra}'  them.  With  the  class 
somewhat  diminished  in  number,  we  closed  Junior  year. 

Last  fall  we  studied  the  exciting  subject  of  psychology.  The 
Professor  called  Whitcomb  up  one  clay,  and  told  him  that  he 
might  give  a  brief  resume  of  the  advance  lesson,  and  he  would 
let  him  have  five  minutes  in  which  to  do  it.  Whit,  told  him 
all  he  knew  of  the  whole  subject  of  psychology  and  of  physics, 
astronomy,  Latin  and  Greek,  and  was  sitting  down  again 
inside  of  three  minutes — and  still  he  wonders  why  the  Faculty 


36  CLASS    DAY,    '7G. 

are  so  down  on  him  that  they  won't  give  him  a  decent  mark 
for  a  single  term  ! 

Hodsdon  has  been  rooming  in  Thornton  this  year,  and  they 
say  that  he  has  a  way  of  heating  his  premises  without  buying 
an}'  coal.  At  all  events,  some  one  in  the  Hall,  with  a  view  to 
making  his  winter's  fuel  last  longer,  offered  to  the  Digamma  to 
give  him  a  barrel  and  a  half  of  coal,  if  he  would  engage  not  to 
steal  an}'  more.  The  Dig.  replied  that  he  would  accept  it  out 
of  friendship  for  the  individual,  but  he  would  lose  coal  by  the 
operation. 

Earl}'  in  the  last  term  of  our  course  little  Bobby  got  down 
on  The  Dartmouth.  The  editors  warmly  discussed  the  calam- 
ity, but  were  divided  about  evenly  between  a  war  and  a  peace 
policy.  The  Poet  favored  the  latter ;  that  is,  he  would  secure 
peace  b}'  putting  Bobby  out  of  the  way.  Accordingl}'  he  en- 
ticed him  into  the  sanctum,  locked  the  door  and  put  the  key 
into  his  pocket,  and  then  opened  fire  upon  him  with  a  revolver. 
He  blazed  away  all  the  afternoon,  but  failed  to  hit  the  indig- 
nant subscriber.  Finally,  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  loading 
him  into  the  pistol  to  fire  him  against  the  brick  wall  of  Ton- 
tine, Bobby  crawled  through  the  keyhole  and  escaped.  Billy 
Pat.  set  out  on  the  war  path  to  stab  the  enemy  with  a  candle, 
but  Bobby  disguised  himself  in  a  clean  shirt  and  washed  face, 
and  still  lives. 

I  must  return  to  the  Poet.  Whenever  anything  wicked  is 
wanted  to  vary  a  work  of  this  kind,  the  dissolute  Poet  is  always 
the  hero,  or  in  some  other  prominent  connection  with  it.  He 
was  walking  one  day  on  the  hill  above  West  Lebanon,  flirting 
with  the  girls  in  the  Seminary,  when  the  party  he  was  with  came 
upon  a  small  plantation  of  young  trees,  and  one  of  them  called 
attention  to  it.  "Well,"  said  the  Poet,  "I  suppose  that  in  all 
probability  they  have  this  nursery  here  to  give  the  Fern.  Sem. 
giils  practice."  Brimmy  at  once  resolved  not  to  associate  with 
turn  any  more,  if  he  persisted  in  talking  like  that. 

I  would  it  were  in  my  power  to  adequately  describe  one  of 
those  recitations  in  geology;  one  of  those  occasions  when  in  all 
parts  of  the  room  would  be  shouts  of  "  Thayer ! "  "Thayer!" 
and  the  Professor  would  remark  that  "  Thayer  is  called  for," 
.Mud  then  proceed  to  question  him.     "Type"  might  ask  him  if  he 


CHRONICLES.  37 

knew  the  difference  between  an  escar  and  an  osar,  and  truthfully 
enough,  Bobby  mighl  echo  back,  "  no,  sar  ! "  Perhaps  the  next 
man  up  would  be  Whitcomb,  and  his  friends  would  tell  him,  in 
answer  to  a  question  from  the  chair,  that  certain  rocks  were 
raminated.  "  1  think,  sir,  that  the  rocks  are  raminated"  Whit. 
would  say.  Then  some  one,  in  the  midst  of  tumult  would  call 
for  the  meeting  to  dissolve,  because  there  was  not  a  quorum 
present.  In  this  way  a  short  hour  would  be  filled  up,  and  we 
would  get  one  hour  nearer  a  liberal  education. 

It  was  gradually  growing  evident  that  the  end  was  approach- 
ing with  us,  when  one  day  at  a  recitation  the  Professor  asked 
for  an  extra  chair  for  the  rostrum.     This  looked  ominous,  and 
the  hopes  of  some,  and  the  fears  of  others,  were  realized  when 
the  President  opened  the  door  and  entered,  and  read  the  fates 
of   the  anxious.      He  said   ''without  fulsome  flattery,"    that 
there   was   material   enough   left   after  the  appointments  were 
made  for  another  Commencement,  which  made  a  number  of  the 
disappointed  look  happy.     At  twelve  o'clock  the  appointments 
were  delivered  to  us,  and  within  an  hour  a  number  got  their 
disappointments  in  the  form  of  letters  drawing  them  off.     Has- 
kell was  in  this  number.      He  only  got  on  in  the  first  place 
because  there  was  a  little  place  left  at  the  end,  and  he  was  the 
only  one  that  was  small  enough  to  fit  it,  and  then  (O,  ingrati- 
tude !)  he  attacked  the  Faculty  for  excusing  him  from  speak- 
ing.    Paul,  too,  among  the  rest,  w^as  inclined  to  be  out  of  tem- 
per, and  (as  Carrigan  had  done  three  or  four  years  before)  he 
threatened   to    "go   to    Harvard"    unless    the    Faculty   would 
••ante  up"    to  his  wishes.      Equally  unfortunately,  however, 
he  did  not  cany  out  his  threat,  and  he  graduates  with  the  class. 
After  the  announcement  most  of  those  especially  interested  let 
up  on  work,  and  it  was  comical  to  see  men  like  Towle  and  the 
Spade  and  Sanborn  cut  and  flunk,  and  be  "hard"  generally. 
Greeley,  McElroy  and   Ryder  kept  at  it  though  after  the  ap- 
pointments were  announced,  hoping  to  get  on  as  spare  men  or 
something  of  the  sort,  but  they  failed.     Foster  was  speaking  to 
his  paternal  one  day  about  the  Commencement  men,  and  pater- 
nal asks  John  where  he  comes  on  in  the   exercises.      Foster 
told  him  that  "you  see,  I  don't  come  on  at  all,  because,  3-011 
see,   T    uas  elected  to  a  part  on  Class   Day  before  the   Com- 


38  CLASS   DAY,    '76. 

mencement  programme  was  made  out,  and  a  Class  Da}'  man 
isn't  eligible  to  Commencement,  3-011  see."     His  father  saw. 

As  I  was  in  the  upper  floor  of  Reed  one  time  a  month  or  so 
ago,  the  fact  that  we  were  "  on  our  last  legs"  was  impressed 
upon  my  mind  more  strongly  than  before.  It  happened  thus  : 
I  was  opposite  Woods'  door  and  heard  strange  sounds  within — 
the  dulcet  tones  of  a  "  bull  fiddle."  It  articulated  the  words, 
"andante  bass  solo  bass  /.,  the  arrow  is  flown,  the  moment  is 
gone,  the  'centennial'  }Tear,  rushes  on,"  and  here  it  all  ran  to- 
gether. Soon  it  had  another  coherent  interval, — "  Quartette 
double-p,  I  have  fought  m}-  way  through,  ritard,  I  have  finished 
the  work  thou  gav'st  me  to  do,  a  men  double-p,  a  men  E.  A. 
Jones,  May  14,  1876,"  and  here  it  let  up.  Surprised  at  the 
idea  of  a  vox  humana  attachment  to  a  bass  viol,  I  opened  the 
door,  and  there  was  only  Sjdvae  rehearsing  his  part  for  the 
"  sing-out,"  from  Jones'  music,  as  he  explained  to  my  anxious 
questioning.  I  explained  to  him  the  way  to  sing  his  part  in  the 
piece,  so  he  did  very  creditably  when  the  concert  came  off. 

Last  spring,  circulars  and  catalogues  from  various  profes- 
sional scholars  began  to  come  through  the  mail  for  members  of 
the  class.  Gardiner,  upon  receiving  a  circular  from  the  Port- 
land Medical  School,  at  once  determined  to  study  the  healing 
art ;  soon  the  Columbia  Law  School  presented  its  claims,  and 
he  would  be  a  lawyer  ;  later,  upon  receipt  of  a  catalogue  of  the 
Yale  Divinity  School,  the  ministry  was  to  be  his  profession  ; 
still  later  the  Harvard  Medical  School  solicited  his  patronage, 
and  he  would  be  a  doctor  again  ;  and  so  on.  But  the  Prophet, 
if  his  prophecies  are  true,  will  doubtless  tell  }tou  that  he  will 
leave  Hanover  within  a  few  weeks  for  a  situation  in  the  middle 
of  somebody's  corn  field,  where  he  will  honor  the  class  and  the 
College  by  scaring  crows  for  a  living.  After  the  corn  which 
he  will  watch  shall  have  been  harvested,  I  expect  he  will  strive 
on  his  own  hook  to  make  two  spires  of  grass  grow  where  one 
grew  before  ;  but  upon  absent-mindedly  pulling  up  the  one 
spire  for  a  tooth-pick,  his  occupation  will  be  gone.  But  I  am 
qoI  the  prophet,  neither  am  I  delivering  a  lecture  on  the  choice 
of  a  profession.  I  was  only  hinting  how  the  " great  expecta- 
tions" of  some,  as  formed   during  this  last  year,  may  turn  out 


(  HRONICLES. 


39 


the  little  realizations  of  the  same  individuals  before  we  have 
been  very  long  Alumni. 

I  have  thought  that  a  catalogue  of  the  nicknames  of  mem- 
I"  the  class,  with  definitions  and  explanations,  might  be  of 
interest,  but  time  will  not  allow  of  more  than  a  part  of  them 
being  given.  At  the  athletics  last  month,  when  Brooks  and 
Vanderpoel  came  out  from  the  tent  to  start  in  the  hurdle  race, 
"Chum"  spoke  of  them  to  some  ladies  as  "Swiller"  and 
"Lieber,"  and  was  asked  why  the}'  were  so  called.  With  more 
ingenuity  than  truth  he  explained  that  "  S wilier"  was  so  called 
because  he  ate  so  much  !  But  he  refrained  from  telling  the  stoiy 
wherein  Vandy  established  his  claim  to  "Lieber"  as  a  title. 
"Thirsty"  obtains  the  name,  I  suppose,  from  the  fact  that  he 
never  drinks,  and  consequently  thirsts.  The  one  most  nick- 
named is  the  one  called  variously,  u  Druid,"  "  Lay  Reader," 
"Lay  Hypocrite,"  "Jesuit,"  and  a  few  other  names  in  the 
same  strain.  Perry  is  responsible  for  more  than  a  half  of  the 
nicknames  in  the  class,  and  consequently  a  majority  have  no 
particular  significance. 

A  comparison  of  our  statistics  at  entering  College  and  at 
graduation,  shows  a  loss  of  two  in  number;  but,  naturally,  an 
increase  is  found  in  nearly  all  other  points.  The  average  man 
is  two  years  and  eleven  months  older,  one  inch  taller  and 
twelve  pounds  heavier  than  he  was  four  years  ago.  About 
twenty-five  of  the  class  have  added  beard  in  some  form  to  their 
facial  furniture  during  their  course,  and  about  twenty  have 
learned  amongst  a  number  of  other  accomplishments  acquired, 
to  enjoy  the  fragrant  Havana  or  to  endure  the  vile  cheroot. 

Only  once  has  our  number  been  diminished  by  death,  and 
then  Puffer's  place  was  made  vacant.  He  closed  the  last  letter 
which  he  wrote,  with  "  The  oil  in  1113-  lamp  is  almost  out,  and 
I  must  close."  The  lamp  of  his  life  was  even  then  flickering, 
and  soon  was  extinguished.  In  a  couple  of  weeks  he  died,  and 
although  the  first  to  be  lost,  he  will  be  the  last  to  be  forgotten 
of  all  the  class. 

The  task  of  chronicler  for  this  class  has  been  made  more 
difficult,  (or  else  easier,  and  I  can  hardly  tell  which,)  by  the 
four  pamphlets  which,  by  "  the  art  preservative,"  have  enbalm- 
ed  for  posterity  the  records  of  "Seventy-Six."     These  annual 


40  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

histories  make  the  work  of  the  chronicler  more  difficult,  in  that 
he  must  in  a  dozen  pages  cover  the  ground  for  which  they  have 
had  more  than  a  hundred  ;  and  yet  he  must  not  touch  upon 
anything  alread^y  printed  in  them.  Viewing  it  in  another  light, 
the  task  seems  easier  than  is  usual,  for,  out  of  such  a  mass  of 
matter  which  was  at  hand,  so  much  had  been  taken,  by  having 
been  already  written,  that  by  so  much  the  duty  would  be  the 
more  easily  performed. 

But,  such  as  they  are,  the  Chronicles  are  written.  Some  of 
you  may  not  fancy  the  prominence  given  certain  little  events 
here  recited,  but  remember  that  the  record  is  your  own.  Some 
others  have  not  been  mentioned,  but  in  very  few  cases  has  this 
been  because  the}'  never  did  anything  worthy  either  praise,  cen- 
sure or  ridicule,  and  in  even  fewer  has  anything  which  has  been 
read,  been  written  with  aught  but  the  kindliest  motives.  But 
I  will  close,  that  we  may  learn  the  future  of  the  class  as  prog- 
nosticated by  the  prophet. 


Prophecies 


BY   JV.   S.   SAYRES,    JAMAICA,    AT.    Y. 


Last  evening,  when  thoughts  of  the  last  bitter  hour,  which  I 
feared  would  come  and  find  me  unable  to  prophesy  aught  of  the 
future,  came  over  me,  I  obe}Ted  the  injunction  of  Mr.  Br3Tant 
and  determined  to  go  forth  into  the  open  sky  and  list  to  Na- 
ture's teachings.  Putting  into  execution  this  resolution,  I  set 
out  from  the  buildings,  proceeded  across  the  ample  fields  be- 
longing to  the  New  Hampshire  College  of  Agriculture  and  the 
Mechanic  Arts,  in  the  direction  of  Balch's  hill,  plunged  into  the 
forest  and  disappeared  from  sight.  How  long  or  widely  I  wan- 
dered I  do  not  know,  but  I  was  awakened  from  my  reveries  by 
the  sound  of  a  voice,  as  unearthly  and  shrill  as  Tripp's,  and  as 
breathless  as  Haskell's.  I  glanced  anxiously  around  :  nothing 
but  deep  forest.  I  was  about  to  pass  on  when  the  same  sound 
was  repeated.  I  was  told  to  look  down  at  my  feet;  I  did  so, 
and  to  my  surprise  discovered  a  bottle  with  the  inscription, 
"St.  Julien.  50  cts.  K.B."  Of  course  my  instincts  led  me 
to  extract  the  cork,  but  scarcely  had  I  begun  to  do  this,  when, 
with  a  loud  pop  it  burst,  and  I  was  instantly  enveloped  in  a 
vapor  as  dense  and  blue  as  the  smoke  which  fills  Lieber's  room 
on  Saturday  nights.  The  volume  rose  to  a  great  hight,  slowly 
condensed  and  assumed  the  shape  of  a  man.  Gradually  the 
body  shrank  to  the  natural  size.  The  features,  though  indis- 
tinct and  without  expression,  grew  familiar.  The  shape  smiled 
a  grisly,  meaningless  smile,  and  whispered  in  a  cautious,  con- 
fidential tone,    "You  couldn't  lend  me  a  dollar,  could  you?" 


42  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

and  then  I  recognized  Darling.  "Hush!"  said  he;  "I  am 
Virgil !  I  don't  live  in  Hanover  any  more,  but  in  a  place  very 
near.  In  short,  I  live  in  Hades  !  I  know  everybod}'  down 
there  and  have  been  in  every  village  in  the  whole  region.  It's 
perfect!}-  splendid.  I  felt  at  home  the  very  minute  I  went 
there.  My  uncle  knew  the  Devil  veiy  well  and  so  he  got  me  a 
first  class  position.  I  show  people  about  during  commence- 
ment week,  and  then  loaf  about  the  rest  of  the  time  and  tell 
stories.  Now  you  must  come  right  along  with  me.  It  won't 
cost  you  a  cent,  and  there's  lots  of  the  fellows  there,  too  : 
Briminy  and  Crawf.  and  Sherburne,  and  there  isn't  a  single 
professor,  so  you  won't  be  found  out,  either."  I  yielded  to  the 
persuasive  Scott,  and,  like  a  paene  in  June,  followed. 

It  will  be  needless  for  me  to  detail  the  journey  towards  the 
Inferno,  nor  do  I  wish  to  take  awaj'  whatever  charm  of  novelt}' 
that  road  ma}'  yet  have  in  store  for  an}'  of  }^ou.  It  was 
all  down  hill,  very  easy  going,  and,  I  am  told,  required  much 
less  exertion  from  the  travellers  than  that  which  leads  upward 
into  Dartmouth  College  via  Prex's  stud}'.  Soon  we  were 
stopped  by  a  huge  mass  of  rnasonn',  over  which  was  pinned  a 
piece  of  sermon  paper  on  which  was  scrawled  with  red  ink  and 
quill  pen,  and  in  a  wretched  and  familiar  hand,  the  words: 
"This  is  the  Porch  of  Hades.  A.  B.  C.  No.  36.  Virtute  et 
Industria  prcesto.  Books  are  like  babies.  St.  Augustine  says, 
etc.  Psi  U's  this  way."  At  one  side  Abbott  and  McCutchins 
were  selling  entrance  tickets.  At  a  nod  from  Scott  the  door 
swung  open  and  we  entered.  A  deathly  and  eternal  silence 
brooded  over  the  place  ;  inanimate  forms  were  stretched  out 
here  and  there.  This,  nry  guide  informed  me,  was  the  first 
circle,  in  which  were  confined  those  who  on  earth  had  not  been 
good  enough  to  go  to  a  better  place,  nor  wicked  enough  to  go 
clear  through  to  the  worse  place.  Here  these  unfortunates 
reclined,  enveloped  in  perpetual  oblivion,  forgetful  now  even 
of  their  own  names  through  Lieber's  mesmeric  influence.  Look- 
ing more  closely  I  discerned  in  the  tangled,  almost  homogene- 
ous mass,  the  faces  of  Sanborn,  Hardison,  Stone,  Ourran 
Clark  and  the  Holt  Brethren.  Passing  sadly  through  this 
waste,  Greek-named  dcrpvyerov,  we  arrived  at  the  banks  of  the 
liver    Styx.       This   I    found  to   be  a   wide    stream,   with  angry 


PROPHECIES.  43 

waves,  and  waters  smelling  of  tobacco  and  whiskey,  jnst  like 
Alex's  breath.  On  the  bank,  in  terror  and  helpless  misery, 
were  collected  those  who  awaited  a  ferriage  over.  Trooping 
aboul  were  disembodied  spirits,  who,  through  lack  of  funds, 
had  been  unable  to  pay  their  way.  Prominent  among  these  I 
recognized  Morey  and  Brooks,  bewailing  in  bitter  tones  that 
their  ancles  had  gone  back  on  them,  and  that  Charon  would 
DOl  trust,  even  when  they  offered  the  customaiy  five  per  cent, 
in  addition.  Here,  also,  was  the  ghost  of  a  washer-woman  en- 
quiring for  Mr.  Barr.  Digamma  had  long  been  one  of  these 
unfortunates,  but  it  seems  he  had  been  able,  through  long  ex- 
perience, to  outwit  the  ticket  man,  and  "  skinned"  in.  These  I 
left  waiting  for  the  return  of  specie  payments.  Soon  I  per- 
ceived a  boat  approach  steered  by  Charon  ;  the  boat  was  named 
•k  The  Peabody."  But  this  was  not  the  only  way  across. 
Further  down  stream  was  a  contrivance  which  had  carried  a 
student  safely  through  his  college  course,  and  landed  him  on 
the  commencement  stage;  it  was  called  a  "crib,"  and  Good- 
hue was  making  good  progress  across  the  stream  in  it.  Near 
this  was  some  one  making  frantic  endeavors  to  ride  over  on 
Sherburne's  back  ;  it  proved  to  be  Towle.  Sherb.  was  a  good 
swimmer;  Towle  was  not.  Sam  Fairfield  went  "clown  home" 
in  a  private  conveyance,  and  Ben.  Roberts  ordered  Charon  to 
carr}'  him  over  free,  and  threatened  to  knock  him  down  if  he 
didn't.  But  all  these  contrivances  were  made  use  of  by  few, 
and  did  not  compare  in  efficienc}'  with  a  new  passage  way, 
which  carried  thousands  and  thousands  safely  across,  and  which 
bid  fair  to  throw  Charon  himself  out  of  employment.  This 
new  way,  1113'  guide  informed  me,  was  over  Crawford's  dam. 
Arrived  on  the  other  shore  we  were  in  Limbo  which,  I  was  told, 
contained  those  who  had  been  virtuous  in  general,  but  had 
been  drunk  at  least  once  in  College.  Here  was  Thompson, 
expiating  that  one  glass  of  liquor  he  took  Freshman  year,  and 
that  cigar  which  had  caused  hard  feelings  between  him  and 
Abbott.  Here  was  Marshall,  whose  Junior  Ex.  whiskey  had 
gained  him  admission,  otherwise  an  aimiable  youth  ;  Justice, 
also,  here  from  cider  guzzling ;  while,  out  on  the  border  land, 
a  loud  snoring  showed  me  that  Barr  was  somewhere  near,  sleep- 
ing off  hasheesh  fumes,  but  I  failed  to  discover  him.     Before 


44  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

I  left  the  region  of  the  river  I  perceived  a  vile  odor  of  chemi- 
cals, and  soon  I  found  a  tripod,  surmounted  03'  a  soap  box, 
which  pointed  towards  some  object  invisible  ;  the  head  of  the 
photographer  was 'enveloped  in  a  black  cloth,  but  I  soon  found 
it  was  that  of  Peabody  taking  the  picture  of  Charon.  The 
boatman  was  clad  in  costume  which  had  a  bare  resemblance  to 
that  formerly  worn  b}T  members  of  the  Chandler  Department, 
and  he  held  in  his  right  hand  an  oar ;  Twenty-five  cents  per 
copy. 

Leaving  this  region,  we  came  to  the  place  where  the  poets 
and  philosophers  sat  in  solemn  conclave  and  wise  converse.  In 
one  spot  was  Tom.  Flint,  chanting  some  lines  of  his  own  to  the 
author  of  Paradise  Lost.  Woods  was  discoursing  learnedly 
with  Dr.  Johnson.  Ernst  was  patronizing  Cicero.  Haskell 
was  playing  loo  with  Empedocles,  and  Stiinpson  split  hairs 
with  Cratinus.  Here  was  Whitcomb,  sentenced  to  make  puns 
for  the  company  forever,  and  Britnmy  was  forced  to  execute 
whatever  commands  any  one  put  on  him,  and  in  the  intervals  to 
roll  up  hill  a  great  weight,  symbolic  of  his  sins,  which  continu- 
ally rolled  back  on  him.  Jones  was  rehearsing  a  high-toned 
glee  club.  Thayer  was  chained  to  a  rock,  while  an  eagle  even- 
day  tore  his  liver,  which  was  every  night  restored  by  that  po- 
tent liver  invigorator  which*  did  so  much  for  him  in  College. 
After  this  I  came  to  where  each  person  was  compelled  to  bow 
down  and  worship  before  that  which  had  been  his  idol  while  on 
earth.  Here  was  McElroy  worshiping  a  bull  ;  Williams  was 
before  a  brazen  imitation  of  himself;  Doc.  bowed  low  before 
a  great  blue  necktie  ;  Towle  worshiped  Sherburne  as  before  ; 
Ryder  was  bent  double  to  a  creation  labeled  "my  own  opin- 
ion ;"  Ernst  contemplated  sadly  a  toothpick  and  a  dirty  collar  ; 
Merrill  lay  before  an  image  of  Whitcomb,  the  printer,  and  an 
egg  boiler ;  Curran  Clark  adored  his  side  whiskers ;  Sanborn 
was  prostrate  before  the  pictures  of  the  Faculty  ;  Tripp  bit  the 
dust  before  a  commencement  mark  ;  and  Peny  lay  helpless  be- 
fore the  door  of  a  house  in  Manchester. 

Near  these  were  some  who  had  worshiped  no  particular  idol 
of  any  character,  and  among  them  were  Kinerson  and  Sargent, 
and,  bad  not  Wertheimer  and  Ryder  been  secured  elsewhere, 
they  would  have  been  among  them. 


PROPHECIES.  45 

Leaving  these  interesting  scenes,  we  passed  through  a  nar- 
row passage,  full  of  smoke,  smells  and  noises,  into  the  inte- 
rior court  whore  the  infernal  judges  sat.  At  first  the  sound  of 
brawling  confused  me,  yet,  hearing  the  words,  "Who's  run- 
ning this  concern,  anyhow?  This  is  my  Hades  and  I'll  run  it 
just  :is  1  please!"  among  the  three  who  sat  on  the  bench  I 
descried  Ben  Wertheimer  as  Minos,  Barr  as  JEacus,  and 
Finney  McElroy  as  Rhadamanthus  :  here  were  the  three  best 
1  uawlers  in  all  Hades,  and  they  had  won  their  present  honors 
through  proficiency  in  that  art.  The}'  were  the  only  three  who 
could  put  down  any  disturbance,  and  they  did  this  by  uniting 
their  voices  and  drowning  out  all  other  speakers;  the}r  could 
brawl  like  thunder.  Unobserved,  I  took  a  position  where  I 
could  watch  the  proceedings.  Court  was  about  to  open.  I 
perceived  that  I  was  about  to  witness  the  scene  so  often  de- 
scribed b}'  the  ancient  poets,  viz.  :  the  trial  of  the  wicked.  The 
judges  sat  solemn,  dignified,  side  by  side.  Behind  them  were 
ranged  rows  of  bottles  ;  before  them,  a  counter  ;  under  them, 
beer  kegs  ;  beside  them,  demons  of  hideous  aspect,  smiling  hor- 
ribly. Minos  rapped  the  assembly  to  order  with  a  sledge  hammer, 
and  taking  a  little  white  card  from  a  sliding  box,  he  called  out 
"Bug!"  "Yes,"  wildly  excaimed  Barr;  "hence,  minion,  to 
the  lowest  deeps,  and  bring  with  utmost  speed  the  Bug  !  Away, 
minion,  away  !  "  and  Barr  sunk  back  in  a  fitful  slumber.  The 
aforesaid  minion  vanished  ;  other  minions  placed  funnels  in  the 
mouths  of  Minos  and  Rhadamanthus  and  poured  down  Uyo  bar- 
rels of  melted  sulphur.  This  done,  No.  1  returned  and  placed 
before  the  court  Billy  Gardiner.  It  will  be  needless  for  me 
to  detail  eveniMng  that  happened  during  the  trial  of  Gardiner 
or  those  who  came  after  him.  It  will  be  sufficient  if  I  indicate 
in  brief  recital  the  outline  of  events  which  formed  the  life  story 
of  each.  Billy  Gardiner  spent  the  first  part  of  his  life  in  vis- 
iting his  classmates  and  gathering  autographs.  He  shook 
hands  with  President  Grant,  kissed  Queen  Victoria,  embraced 
the  Czar  of  Russia,  and  got  drunk  with  Foo  Chung.  Returning 
home,  seventy-six  occupied  his  mind  like  a  mania.  He  wrote 
class  histories  every  year.  Whenever  an}~  seventy-six  man 
gained  an  honor,  he  felt  proud  of  him  and  visited  him  forth- 
with.    The  mystic  figures,  '76,  filled  his  very  soul  and  floated 


46  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

before  his  eyes.  He  thought  of  manning  a  wife  seventy-six 
years  old  ;  of  having  seventy-six  children  ;  of  weighing  seventy- 
six  pounds,  but  being  unable  to  reduce  his  weight  to  this  trifle, 
he  raised  it  to  the  tenth  multiple  of  that  figure.  He  had  the 
figures  '76,  cut  from  white  muslin,  five  feet  long,  sewed  on  his 
clothes  behind  and  before,  that  he  might  serve  as  a  perpetual 
and  peripatetic  exhibitor  of  that  symbol.  But  his  fate  was 
somewhat  sad  ;  there  were  those  who  laughed  at  it.  Wander- 
ing over  a  fair  ground  one  summer  da}T,  and  waiting  for  a  bal- 
loon ascension,  he  noticed  an  iron  pipe  which  seemed  to  con- 
tain water.  Being  somewhat  thirst}',  he  opened  his  mouth 
very  wide  so  that  it  fitted  exactly  and  securely  to  the  end  of  the. 
ten  inch  pipe  and  endeavored  to  drink.  But,  to  his  horror,  he 
drank  hydrogen,  and  knew  that  he  was  using  the  gas  meant  for 
the  balloon.  To  his  consternation  he  found  his  lips  could  not 
be  removed  from  the  pipe  :  immediately  he  began  to  swell ;  his 
body  expanded  ;  it  grew  to  fearful  dimensions  ;  now  it  was 
twenty,  now  forty,  now  a  hundred  feet  across.  Like  a  huge 
balloon  it  swayed  and  bobbed  from  side  to  side  in  endeavors  to 
rise,  and  when  it  was  fulry  three  hundred  feet  in  diameter,  the 
strain  broke  the  pipe  and  all  that  was  left  of  the  embodiment 
of  '76  shot  upward  with  a  bang,  in  a  moment  became  a  speck 
and  disappeared  from  sight  in  the  clouds.  But  astronomers 
told  us  that  far  out  on  the  confines  of  the  earth's  attraction 
there  revolved  a  lurid  asteroid,  on  the  sides  of  which  they  could 
descry  in  white  figures,    "'76  !" 

Woods  came  next,  and  his  tale  was  a  little  different  from 
that  of  his  predecessor.  He  began  his  career  by  studying 
theolog}T.  But  not  being  able  to  find  a  congregation  large 
enough  at  once  to  pay  a  high  salary,  and  to  appreciate  his 
style  of  preaching,  and  in  despair  of  finding  an  opportunit}*  of 
using  his  affluence  of  lexicographical  erudition,  which  affluence 
of  lexicographical  erudition  would  have  been  of  service  only  in 
one  position,  viz.  :  in  baccalaureates,  he  came  down  from  the 
pulpit  and  went  into  secular  business.  He  began  by  peddling 
feather  dusters — blue,  red  and  yellow.  Then  he  sold  tin  ware, 
saved  a  lit  lie  money,  bought  a  wagon,  set  up  a  grocery  store 
on  Cape  Cod,  and  ended  his  life  in  that  position.  He  was  very 
fond  of  children,  grave  and  sedate  in  manner,  talked  learnedly 


TKOIMIKCIKS. 


47 


around  the  stoic  with  all  the  loungers,  and  possessed  a  good 
character  to  the  last. 

Abbott,  being  well  grounded  in  the  Mahratta  dialect,  was 
judged  to  be  qualified  as  missionary,  so  he  was  sent  to  the 
Mahratta  district  by  the  American  Board,  after  marrying  his 
Long-loved  McCutchins.  He  preached  faithfully,  labored  effi- 
cientty,  and,  after  ten  long  years  of  earnest  work  and  constant 
entreaty,  actually  succeeded  in  converting  a  whole  Mahratt, 
who,  dying  soon  after,  was  stuffed  and  sent  to  New  York  to 
the  American  Board,  as  a  specimen  of  the  noble  work  that  was 
being  done  in  India,  and  an  indication  that  their  constant  and 
zealous  efforts  in  sending  funds  had  not  been  in  vain.  It  is 
very  probable  that  Abbott  would  have  converted  another  man, 
but,  unfortunately,  he  listened  too  long  to  a  native  preacher, 
and  was  converted  over  to  the  Hindoo  faith.  He  changed  his 
name  to  Sharashi  Hendecasyllabi  Nagrilah  Abbott,  married 
nine  wives,  became  a  nabob,  owned  a  hundred  slaves,  lived  in 
all  the  luxury  and  voluptuousness  that  wealth  could  buy,  and 
passed  away  his  days  in  ease  and  pleasure,  reclining  on  couches 
of  down,  fanned  bjT  beautiful  captives,  breathing  incense,  drink- 
ing fragrant  sherbet,  and  smoking  narghilahs.  And  now  the 
name  of  Abbott  is  widely  reverenced  and  disseminated  over  the 
Mahratta  district. 

Thayer  had  an  eventful  history.  He  left  College  with  the 
firm  resolution  to  enjoy  life.  He  became  a  man  of  the  world, 
and  soon  proprietor  of  a  refreshment  saloon  and  sailor  board- 
ing house  in  New  York.  Here  he  was  converted  by  the  earnest 
preaching  of  Greele}',  who  was  a  second  Beecher  in  eloquence 
and  piety,  and  began  life  again  as  a  reformer.  He  made 
splendid  plans  for  reforming  every  body.  His  plan  for  reform- 
ing the  Mormons  was  worthy  of  consideration.  He  proposed 
to  send  men  out  to  Utah  in  vast  numbers,  until  they  out-num- 
bered the  women  ;  then  each  man  was  to  become  a  Mormon. 
Each  man,  being  a  Mormon,  would  endeavor  to  secure  all  the 
wives  he  could,  "but,"  said  Bobby,  "inasmuch  as  the  num- 
ber of  women  is  limited,  and  the  number  of  men  is  unlimited, 
hence,  each  Mormon  could  have  only  as  many  wives  as  the  num- 
ber of  Mormon  men  is  contained  times  in  the  number  of  Mor- 
mon women,  which  would  be  less  than  one  wife  apiece.     But 


48 

some  men  would  not  want  some  women,  consequently  each  man 
would  many  one  woman,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  you  have 
wiped  out  polygamy."  The  reasoning  was  good,  but  the  plan 
didn't  work,  notwithstanding  Bob 03-  offered  to  be  one  of  a 
thousand  who  should  sacrifice  themselves  for  the  good  of  the 
country  and  go.  Yet  he  did  much  good  in  various  wa}Ts ; 
erected  a  new  building  at  Dartmouth.  His  last  words  were  : 
"Am  I  a  Phi  Beta?"  and  he  died,  greatly  regretted  by  all  who 
knew  him. 

Haskell  began  life  as  clerk  in  the  Grand  Central  Depot, 
N.  Y.  Then  by  industry  and  efficiency  (and  by  "catty" 
points)  he  rose  to  the  head  of  the  establishment.  He  grew 
immensely  wealthy,  married  one  of  his  first  loves,  but  finding 
that  though  he  could  manage  ten  railroads  and  fourteen  savings 
banks,  he  couldn't  and  didn't  manage  her,  he  became  a  wid- 
ower. He  grew  portly,  fatherly  ;  wore  a  heavy  gold  fob,  a 
gold  headed  cane,  gold  rimmed  spectacles  ;  loved  to  pat  little 
children  on  their  heads  and  give  them  pennies,  and  occupied  a 
prominent  seat  in  Greeley's  church.  His  body  rests  in  Green- 
wood, under  a  large  marble  monument  surmounted  by  an  angel 
weeping  alabaster  tears.  There  is  a  brazen  cast  of  him  on  the 
steple  of  the  depot. 

Kivel  became  "  Holy  Father  Kivel,"  a  Romish  priest,  and 
settled  in  Nashua.  He  was  a  model  priest,  and  a  great  com- 
fort indeed  to  all  the  McGinnesses,  Donnegans  and  Raffertys 
in  the  parish.  Zealous  in  every  good  work,  the  people  almost 
worshiped  "his  Riverence."  It  used  to  trouble  him  exceed- 
ingl}'  when  Ryder  and  Towle — vagabonds  as  they  were — 
chanced  to  call  in  on  him  and  get  boozy  over  his  claret,  and 
carouse  as  they  used  to  do  in  the  mansion  corner  of  Lebanon 
and  College  Streets.  They  did  say  that  Father  John's  nose 
became  rather  shiny  and  his  form  rounded,  but  then  he  was  a 
good  man  for  all  that. 

Marshall  graduated  with  two  professions  in  his  eye,  the  law 
and  astronomy.  For  a  long  time  he  wavered,  unable  to  choose. 
On  the  one  hand  the  singularly  successful  career  of  Mr.  Daniel 
Webster  Lured  him  toward  the  musty  law  books,  but  the  sun 
and  moon  exerted  more  than  a  tidal  influence  over  him  in  an- 
other direction.     He  ended,  not  as  Bobby  ended  when  in  doubt 


PROPHE<  [£S.  4i) 

as  to  which  o(  two  ladies  he  should  write  to,  by  choosing 
neither.  He  spent  his  long  and  singularly  unfortunate  career 
in  selling  blacking  in  the  streets  of  Boston  during  the  summer ; 
in  the  winter  he  exhibited  Mercury  through  a  telescope,  at 
twenty  cents  a  peep,  and  when  Mercury  didn't  shine  he  made 
waffles  and  sold  the  boys.  Truly,  a  versatile  genius!  When 
Librarian  Scott  heard  the  sad  end  of  his  pupil,  then  burst  his 
[Lib.  Scott's]   mighty  heart. 

Damon  Morey  and  Pythias  Brooks,  who  lived  so  lovingly  to- 
gether throughout  their  college  course,  could  not  bear  the 
thought  of  separation  afterwards.  They  planned  how  to  live 
together.  Damon  thought  he  ought  to  teach.  He  couldn't 
find  a  school,  although  he  put  his  price  very  low.  In  fact,  he, 
who  the  first  week  in  June,  1876,  would  not  look  at  a  salary  of 
less  than  two  thousand  dollars,  kept  dropping  down  one  hun- 
dred dollars  at  a  time  until  he  was  anxious  to  teach  for  ten  dol- 
lars a  year  and  find  himself.  Then  he  determined  to  live  with- 
out money  at  all.  Really,  when  he  came  to  think  it  over  he 
hadn't  been  accustomed  to  mone}T.  He  remembered  how  he 
used  to  wake  up  in  the  morning  and  thank  fortune  that  he  was 
born  handsome  and  not  rich.  He  made  a  bold  resolution :  lie 
would  live  on  his  uncles !  He  wrould  spend  his  life  in  visiting 
them  as  they  had  in  visiting  him.  He  wrote  to  Pythias  ;  Brooks 
was  under  avuncular  authority,  }^et  he  started  for  Thetford. 
But  he  started  in  vain.  He  left  the  train  at  the  fifth  Thetford  sta- 
tion and  stopped  at  one  of  the  uncles' ;  Morey  had  been  gone 
just  two  hours.  He  started  in  pursuit ;  the  next  uncle  told  the 
same  story.  In  vain  Pythias  searched ;  he  went  in  succession 
to  Thetford,  to  North  Thetford,  South  Thetford,  East  Thetford, 
West  Thetford,  Thetford  Centre,  North-by-a-half-east  Thet- 
ford, North-north-west-by-a-half-north  Thetford,  North-north- 
north-west-b3T-a-half-point-west-on-the-lee-bowr-top-gallant- 
main-royal-jibboom  Thetford,  but  all  in  vain.  Damon  kept 
two  hours  ahead  of  him,  and  they  never  caught  up  with  each 
other.  It  is  a  sad  story.  Long  the  search;  Evangeline-like, 
Brooks  kept  up  the  search  ;  still,  like  the  wandering  Jew,  Mo- 
rey kept  ahead.  The  years  sped  away,  yet  they  never  emerged 
from  the  irresistible  maelstrom  of  Damon's  uncles  and  the 
Thetford    stations.      Death   brought  them  to  each  others  arms, 


50  .       CLASS     DAY,    '76. 

and  now  the}'  expiate  their  sins  together.  Brooks  is  sentenced 
to  borrow  money  forever,  which  Morey  pours  ceaselessly  into 
a  pocket  without  a  bottom. 

Thompson  became  a  preacher, — of  course  he  did.  A  Meth- 
odist preacher,  of  course.  His  friends  thought  it  would  be 
better  for  him  to  move  on,  every  two  years.  He  preached  able 
sermons,  for  Thompson  had  ability.  He  was  very  powerful ; 
he  could  move  an  immense  audience,  in  ten  minutes, — com- 
pletely out  of  doors.  He  preached  Thanksgiving  sermons. 
He  was  called  the  Thanksgiving  preacher, — because,  as  one  of 
his  children  explained,  whenever  he  gets  to  the  end  of  his  ser- 
mon, if  it  has  been  a  very  long  one,  the  people  are  very  thank- 
ful, and  if  it  has  been  a  very  short  one  the}T  are  even  more 
thankful.  When  Thompson  had  finished  his  tale,  arose  a  dis- 
cussion as  to  his  fate.  Minos  Wertheimer  wrathfull}7  swore 
that  he  wouldn't  have  him  loafing  around  his  Hades-  Rhada- 
manthus  advised  that  he  be  suspended  ;  iEacus,  that  he  be 
dropped.  It  was  finally  agreed  that  he  go  to  the  Elysian 
Fields. 

Flint,  in  due  course,  was  tutor  and  professor  in  College.  He 
was  dismissed  because  he  couldn't  talk  in  prose  or  in  Pmglish. 
His  Greek  grammar  was  entirely  in  rhyme,  and  read  like 
Mother  Goose,  which  he  turned  into  polyglot  for  the  edification 
of  children.  He  developed  a  love  for  music ;  kept  a  hurdy 
gurdy  in  his  room,  whither  it  was  his  wont  to  retire  ;  there  he 
would  smoke  a  vile  cigar,  eat  a  hashheesh  pill,  chant  from  a 
volume  of  Swinburne,  turn  the  hurdy  gurdy,  and  become  wrapt 
in  ecstasy.  He  was  absent  minded  and  fond  of  trying  exper- 
iments. He  had  nine  lives  and  soon  used  them  all  up.  Once 
he  had  a  hole  bored  in  his  ear  because  he  looked  down  the  bar- 
rel of  a  pistol  to  see  whether  he  could  see  the  bullet  come  out 
when  he  pulled  the  trigger.  Then  he  stuck  a  pin  in  the  hind 
fog  of  a  horse  to  see  if  the  animal  would  jump  ;  this  nearly 
killed  the  experimenter.  Then  he  swallowed  a  bent  pin  to  see 
how  it  would  seem.  Then  he  jumped  from  a  roof  just  to  find 
how  it  went.  He  stuck  his  head  in  a  fly-wheel  to  look  at  the 
motion  and  barely  escaped.  Finally,  one  day,  in  a  state  of 
absent-mindedness,  he  walked  to  the  middle  of  a  brook,  lay 
himself  down  on  the  hot  tout  to  sleep  and  was  drowned.     Yet 


PROPHECIES.  51 

Tom.  was  a  good  follow  and  an  erudite  scholar,  and  every  body 
liked  him. 

.John  Foster  never  amounted  to  much.  He  became  governor 
the  year  after  graduation  and  then  senator,  from  which  he  fell 
gradually  until  he  became  a  mere  cabinet  officer,  and  he  died 
abroad  at  the  court  of  St.  James.  Poor  John !  if  Seppi  had 
been  with  him  things  would  have  happened  diiferently.  They 
wanted  to  make  him  President,  but  John's  nobler  nature  re- 
volted. Perry  said  John  was  prett}r  big  in  little  New  Hamp- 
shire, but  if  they  should  spread  him  out  over  the  whole  country 
he  would  be  extremefv  thin  in  any  given  place.  There  is  now 
a  bust  of  John  in  the  State  House  in  Concord,  and  another  in 
the  Dartmouth  College  Library. 

Andrews,  I  regret  to  say,  eloped,  only  two  months  after 
graduation,  with  a  rich  and  riotous  widow.  He  had  been 
warned  against  drinking,  stealing,  chewing  tobacco,  dancing 
and  card  playing.  But  he  had  never  been  warned  against  fair 
and  fort}-  widows,  and  did  not  know  it  was  wrong  to  do  so. 
The  money  was  soon  spent  in  fast  living,  and  then  they  kept  a 
little  candy  shop  in  Boston.  This  failed  to  support  the  family. 
Death  mercifull}'  put  an  end  to  the  tragedy. 

Curran  Clark  studied  law  with  Mr.  Duncan,  joined  the 
Faculty,  gave  lectures  on  Constitutional  and  International 
Law,  was  made  president  of  the  Dartmouth  Bank,  deacon  in  the 
College  Church,  perpetual  referee  in  the  sports  on  the  Campus, 
gave,  in  all,  to  the  College  one  hundred  dollars,  and  died. 
Yet  the  Connecticut  still  rolled  on  to  the  sea,  and  the  seasons 
came  and  went  just  as  they  did  a  hundred  years  before. 

Jones  became  a  perfect  Crichton  in  acquirements.  He  dis- 
covered a  new  law  in  Astronomy,  a  new  element  in  Chemistiy, 
a  new  theory  in  Harmon}',  and  a  new  system  in  Metaphysics. 
In  fine  he  seemed  to  be  the  focus  wherein  all  the  brilliancy  of 
the  Joneses  converged.  Yet  such  was  his  versatility  that  he 
would  disappear  from  the  world  for  a  month  at  a  time,  assume 
an  incog.,  and,  as  leader  of  a  band  of  negro  minstrels,  amuse 
and  bewitch  large  audiences  with  fiddle  and  clogs.  Nor  was 
this  all ;  sensible  of  the  great  perplexity  which  came  from  the 
large  number  of  Smiths,  Browns  and  Joneses,  he  resolved  on  a 
plan  for  their  unification.     By  some  means  or  other  he  caused 


52  CLASS     DAY,    '76. 

all  the  males  of  the  houses  of  Smith,  Brown  and  Jones  to  die, 
then  he  collected  all  the  females  of  the  same  families  in  a  new 
colony,  and  by  a  bold  stroke  cut  the  gordian  knot  by  marrying 
the  whole  establishment,  widows,  spinsters  and  all,  and  thus 
reduced  the  tangled  mass  of  names  to  simplicit}"  and  unit}'. 

Fairfield,  died,  aged  seventy  years  ! 

Ernst  removed  to  the  deepest  wilds  of  Colorado,  hired  a  cave, 
bought  a  skull,  and  set  up  in  the  hermit  business.  In  solitude 
and  silence  he  cogitated  long  and  deep  on  the  great  facts  of 
Nature  and  of  Mind.  Enwraptin  profound  metaphysical  spec- 
ulation, his  body  wasted  in  mere  shadow.  Yet  he  heeded  not, 
nor  seemed  changed,  and  there  he  remained  intoxicated  with 
his  own  musings  until.  Death,  in  the  shape  of  an  autumnal  gale, 
bore  his  frail  and  wasted  remains  to — nobody  knows  where. 

Cate  studied  theology  and  became  a  second  Theodore  Parker. 

Barton  studied  several  professions,  but  left  them  in  disgust 
one  after  another,  and,  in  perfect  weariness  of  having  to  meet 
with  common  people,  he  built  a  tower  and  lived  on  the  top  of 
it  like  St.  Simon.  There  he  spent  his  life,  looking  down  on  all 
the  world  below,  making  faces  and  casting  pebbles  at  whoever 
looked  up  at  him. 

Gamble  lived  on  the  interest  of  his  fortune.  Married,  lived 
in  comfort  and  ease,  grew  more  and  more  happ3T  and  satisfied 
every  day.  He  never  did  any  hard  work  ;  kept  his  grounds  in 
perfect  neatness.  He  was  a  credit  to  his  family,  his  college, 
the  world.  He  held  the  offices  of  alderman,  justice  of  the 
peace,  general  of  the  militia.  Finally,  after  a  long  and  even 
life,  he  died  in  bed,  decently,  quietly  and  respectably,  and  with 
that  air  of  propriety  with  which  he  had  always  done  eveiything. 
He  was  properly  buried  in  the  family  lot;  a  plain  black  iron 
fence  surrounds  the  spot ;  no  weeds  arc  permitted  to  grow 
there,  and  his  widow  wore  deep  mourning  for  him,  after  the 
custom  of  the  family. 

Paul  taught  school  at  first  and  many  youth  did  the  staid  ped- 
agogue  send  to  college,  well  grounded  in  Latin  and  Greek. 
After  this  he  opened  a  barber's  shop  in  Boston,  where  he  shaved 

itli  due  decorum,  becoming  gravity  and  a  sharp  razor. 
Billy  Patterson    became  a  perfect   marvel   of  accuracy.      He 
could  keep  the  time  of  day  in  his  head  and  tell  it  to  you  with- 


PROPHECIES.  53 

out  a  watch  at  any  moment  to  the  fifth  decimal  of  a  second. 
He  oever  married,  for  he  heard  thai  wives  interrupted  a  per- 
son's time,  but  he  did  learn  to  smoke,  and  every  evening  after 
supper  he  built  castles  in  smoke  until  the  exact  moment  came 
which  he  had  set  upon  Cor  another  occupation,  and  then  he 
stopped  short  and  laid  his  pipe  aside.  He  discovered  an  error 
in  the  seventeenth  decimal  place  in  one  of  the  logarithms  of  a 
royal  astronomical  volume,  and  another  of  five  inches  in  the 
computed  height  of  one  of  the  lunar  mountains.  He  received 
an  immense  salary  as  car  starter  on  the  great  horse  car  centre  of 
Brooklyn,  where  thirty-seven  lines  converged,  each  line  having 
a  different  interval  of  minutes  between  its  cars.  Formerly,  it 
took  fifteen  men  to  do  it,  but  Bill}-  took  it  all  in  hand  with  ease. 
He  could  tell  where  car  891  on  line  27  ought  to  be  at  any  sec- 
ond of  the  day,  how  much  fare  the  conductor  had,  and  what 
the  people's  names  were  who  rode.  He  was  killed  by  Father 
Time,  who  struck  him  with  his  scythe,  out  of  jealous}T. 

Hall  and  Hay  vowed  eternal  fidelity  to  each  other.  Hall 
grew  shorter  and  Hay  longer.  They^  tried  farming,  but  Ha}T 
30  tall  he  couldn't  see  the  potato  hills,  and  Hall  so  short 
he  couldn't  get  over  them.  Then  they  taught  school,  but  the 
horrid  girls  teased  little  Hally,  kissed  him  and  tweaked  his 
nose,  so  they  gave  that  up.  Ha}'  wore  a  rope  ladder  reaching 
from  his  shoulder  to  the  ground,  as  a  means  of  retreat  for  Hall. 
Then  they  started  a  show.  It  consisted  of  an  immense  number 
of  animals,  which  were  shown  one  at  a  time.  Hay,  in  various 
costume,  exhibited  himself  as  a  giant,  an  anaconda,  an  alliga- 
tor, an  elephant,  a  fat  man  ;  and,  in  suitable  disguise,  Hall 
was  a  dwarf,  a  mosquito,  a  South  American  turtle,  a  bat,  an 
angel.     The  combination  was  a  success,  and  they  made  money. 

The  Holt  Brethren  exhibited  another  instance  of  double  stars. 
They  both  eat  off  the  same  plate,  read  the  same  book,  slept  on 
the  same  pillow.  They  clung  closer  together  than  the  Floren- 
tine hemispheres,  which  four  horses  alone  could  separate.  In- 
deed it  was  this  attractive  force  that  brought  about  their  final 
fate.  An  elevation  grew  on  the  back  of  each  brother  ;  one 
night  these  two  united  like  the  two  ends  of  a  water  spout,  then 
the\  grew  closer  together  ;  the  distinctive  features  of  each  were 
lost,  and  there  resulted  after  one  month  of  melting  down  a  new 


54  CLASS     DAY,    '76. 

Holt,  who  combined  the  excellencies  of  each  brother,  and  was 
a  perfect  man.  The  names  were  also  melted  down,  and  became 
one,  viz.  :  Fred  Judah  Leslie  Mach  Queechee  Holt. 

Sam.  Merrill  killed  Whitcomb,  made  love  to  his  widow,  and 
tried  Hanover  printing,  but,  being  detected  in  running  off  a 
mock  programme,  left  town.  He  tried  journalism,  and  with 
brilliant  success,  but  his  unhappy  penclmnt  for  contriving  col- 
umns of  figures  could  be  satisfied  only  in  one  line,  viz.  :  alma- 
nac making.  So  Sam.,  oblivious  of  friends,  college  honors  and 
reputation,  fitted  up  a  room  in  Worcester  and  began  the  busi- 
ness. His  room  contained  maps,  globes,  cribbage  boards, 
rulers,  a  Bologna  sausage,  a  dictionary,  a  little  snarling  dog,  a 
thermometer,  a  microscope,  and  an  egg  boiler.  His  sofa  could 
be  turned  into  a  bed,  a  chest  of  drawers,  a  wash  stand  or  a 
trunk.  When  he  turned  his  swivel  chair  around  three  times 
one  way  and  five  the  other,  a  whirring  sound  ensued,  a  bell 
rang,  an  eas}T  chair  would  spring  out  of  the  wall  and  unfold  it- 
self, an  inkstand  would  jump  out  from  somewhere  and  open  its 
top,  and  all  the  locks  in  the  desk  slide  back.  He  had  splendid 
success,  and  never  made  a  mistake.  Once  the  printer  put  in  an 
additional  eclipse  of  the  sun,  but  that  luminary  gracefully  came 
to  time  and  threw  in  the  extra  eclipse  just  out  of  compliment 
to  Sam.,  for  if  there  was  to  be  a  mistake  at  all  it  was  better 
that  the  sun  should  make  it  than  that  Sam's  almanac  should  be 
wrong.  Indeed,  the  people  in  the  sun  grew  careless  and  laz}-, 
and  ran  the  whole  machine  by  the  almanac  altogether.  The 
publication  was  neatly  printed  on  tinted  paper;  classic  and  pol- 
ished witticisms  adorned  the  small  space  at  the  bottom  of  the 
pages,  and  every  other  leaf  contained  unobjectionable  adver- 
tisements. Sam.  never  married.  He  was  engaged  to  that 
Windsor  girl,  but  she  happened  to  leave  out  a  comma  where 
one  was  needed  in  one  of  her  most  impassioned  love-letters, 
and  he  was  never  able  to  have  it  satisfactorily  explained,  al- 
though he  made  two  special  trips,  post  haste,  to  see  her  about  it. 
He  refused,  peremptorily  and  finalty,  to  have  anything  whatever 
to  do  with  the  girl  or  the  sex  that  could  make  such  terrible 
blunders. 

Gale  became  U.  S.  .Minister  to  France,  and  wrote  several 
valuable  historical  works. 


PROPHECIES.  55 

Bridgman  studied  medicine,  law,  theology,  philosophy, 
painting  and  engineering — all  in  the  space  of  two  years.  He 
wont  into  business  and  out  again  in  one  more  year.  He  never 
los1  his  enthusiasm,  which,  with  his  love  of  the  marvellous, 
and  his  ignorance  of  moral  distinctions,  carried  him  all  over 
the  world.  He  crossed  the  Atlantic  in  a  soap  box,  and  hung 
by  his  eyelashes  from  a  balloon  two  miles  high.  He  could  tell 
the  most  remarkable  stories,  and  achieved  an  immense  reputa- 
tion by  writing  books  of  travel.  One  day  he  went  off  in  a 
basket  attached  to  twelve  large  eagles,  and  never  came  back 
again. 

Brown  abandoned  his  childhood  home,  and  that  river  which 
flowed  by  it,  and  took  charge  of  the  Profile  House;  eat  six 
meals  a  da}',  and  was  the  jolliest  man  alive.  When  he  died 
one  child  and  five  small  wives  followed  him  to  the  grave. 

Sargent  engaged  as  brakeman  on  the  Passumpsic  River  R.  R., 
and  spent  his  life  in  flirting  with  the  girls  on  the  route.  One 
day,  as  he  was  passing  southward  through  Norwich  station,  he 
kept  his  head  turned  too  long  to  wink  at  a  girl  in  Kibling's 
upper  window,  was  struck  by  the  bridge  and  killed.  Twenty- 
five  girls  were  disconsolate. 

Short}'  entered  the  ministry,  but  was  detected  in  stealing 
from  the  contribution  box  and  expelled.  He  rapidly  sunk 
until  he  was  sentenced  to  twent}'  years  in  Concord  prison. 
His  career  was  a  sad  one,  and  indicative  of  the  bad  effects  of 
ouce  beginning  a  course  of  vice.  Shorty  began  his  by  cribbing 
in  College,  and  this  was  the  first  link  in  the  chain. 

Frost  was  a  poet.  One  of  his  best  productions  was  entitled 
"  To  the  Plains  of  Hanover."  It  went  somehow  thus:  "-And 
wild  as  hUls  that  mountain-born  wolves  roar  fiercely  on,  Oh! 
come  through  gateways  steeling  over  the  plains  of  Hanover,  and 
('/"iron  proclaim  them  wolves  of  ours"  It  will  be  perceived 
that  Frost  invented  a  new  theory  of  poetry,  the  logical  result 
of  Wordsworth's,  which  it  aimed  to  overthrow.  According  to 
him.  poetry  does  not  consist  in  the  rhrvme,  so  he  thrust  out  the 
rhyme  :  nor  in  the  meter,  so  he  dispensed  with  the  meter  ;  nor 
altogether  in  the  ideas,  so  he  discarded  the  ideas.  Now,  if 
when  you  have  thus  treated  a  bit  of  poetry,  jrour  sensitive 
nature   can    discern    what  is  left,  you   have   exactly   hit   upon 


56  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

Frost's  theory,  and  can  then  appreciate  his  poetry  ;  otherwise 
you  will  be  unable  to  see  any  beaut\T  in  it.  He  also  wrote  sev- 
eral novels,  of  which  "  Monaldo  Monaldini,  or  the  Mystery  of 
the  Spanish  Main"  was  the  best.  But  somehow  it  was  his 
misfortune  to  have  them  printed  in  yellow  covers,  and  sold  for 
ten  cents  a  copy.  These  novels,  also,  were  written  in  accordance 
with  a  new  theory.  Perceiving  that  the  imagination  is  the 
faculty  to  be  addressed  in  the  reader,  and  perceiving  that  the 
present  style  did  not  exercise  the  imagination  of  the  reader  at 
all,  but  that  of  the  author,  hence  resolved  on  a  remedy.  After 
writing  his  books  he  went  through  it  with  a  pen,  and  struck  out 
every  other  line  ;  then  every  other  word  in  the  remaining  lines  ; 
then  he  transposed  all  the  leaves  ;  then  tore  out  every  tenth 
page,  and  in  that  form  he  gave  them  to  the  world.  If  the 
reader  had  a  brilliant  imagination  he  could  fill  up  the  blanks, 
and  enjoy  the  story  ;  if  he  could  not,  then  the  books  were  not 
for  him,  and  he  must  be  contented  with  the  common  style, 
where  eveiwthing  is  written  out  fully,  and  nothing  left  to  the 
imagination. 

Hardison  joined  the  Faculty,  took  charge  of  the  chair  of 
English  literature  and  belles  lettres,  and,  his  life  being  spent  in 
the  active  duties  incident  to  the  position,  the  waters  of  the 
great  world  closed  over  him,  and  he  never  appeared  again  on 
the  surface. 

Here  the  judges  called  for  Hodsdon,  and,  amidst  loud  calls 
for  "  Digamma,"  the  emissaries  went  forth  in  quest ;  but  they 
reported  that  he  could  not  be  found  in  all  Hades,  and  some  one 
just  then  reporting  that  a  small  black  figure  with  a  dirt}'  cap, 
black  siclers  and  a  clay  pipe,  had  just  escaped,  and  several 
others  reporting  that  they  heard  the  words,  "  Read  him !  Head 
Mathews  I"  it  was  conjectured  that  the  Digamma,  moved  by  his 
ruling  passion,  had  "skinned"  his  way  out  of  the  other  end 
of  Hades,  and  had  doubtless  effected  a  safe  entrance  into  parts 
unknown. 

Hunt,  became  missionary  to  the  Chinook  Indians,  assumed 
their  habits  and  customs,  and  became  chieftain  of  a  tribe.  He 
wns  noted  for  his  eloquence  and  fierceness.  He  forgot  the  Eng- 
lish language  except  the  two  mystic  words  "  more  whiskey." 


PROPHECIES. 


57 


Piper  became  a  Universalis!  preacher,  edited  a  magazine, 
was  a  shining  light  even  in  Boston,  and  taught  many  people  to 
have  do  fear  of  the  hereafter,  or  any  dread  of  retributive  jus- 
tin'.  But  he  was  forced  to  recant  by  emphatic  order  of  Minos, 
wlui  wratlit'ully  told  him  he  wouldn't  have  any  such  talk  as  that 
down  below  in  his  Hades,  at  any  rate,  no  matter  what  the\r 
could  stand  in  Boston. 

Ryder  had  begun  to  read  law  when  his  mind  became  inflamed 
by  reading  one  of  Frost's  stories  about  pirates.  He  went  to 
sea,  got  up  a  mutiny,  seized  the  ship,  and  lived  a  life  of  blood 
and  steel,  the  terror  of  the  Mexican  seas.  He  wore  a  red  silk 
sash,  a  blue  silk  shirt,  a  crimson  doublet ;  two  navy  pistols, 
a  cutlass  and  a  poinard  adorned  his  belt.  His  bronzed  and 
bearded  face  was  marked  with  scars.  Every  other  word  was 
an  oath.  He  accumulated  vast  treasures,  which  he  buried  in 
the  rough  sands  of  the  sea  shore,  several  cables'  length  from 
the  water ;  was  captured,  and  executed  in  Boston  after  making 
full  confession. 

Stone  fixed  his  e}*e  on  the  Presidency,  but  adverse  fortune 
threw  him  off  the  track,  and  he  bought  a  blue  hand  cart  and 
mended  umbrellas. 

Staples  studied  anatonrv,  and  gave  lectures  on  the  human 
frame  for  man}T,  man}'  years.  Young  and  old  loved  to  listen 
to  the  lectures  of  the  dear,  white-haired,  old  gentleman,  as  he 
explained  the  mechanism  of  the  movable  patella  and  the  habits 
of  the  Berwick  Pokes. 

McClary  grew7  "  fast,"  drove  stylish  horses,  wore  blue  neck- 
ties and  gold  seal  rings  ;  used  scented  hair  oil.  He  dabbled 
in  literature  and  wrote  two  novels, — one  entitled  u  Jane  the 
Mulatto,  or  Life  in  a  Gutter  " ;  the  other,  "  The  Poisoned  Gum- 
drop,  or  The  Candy  Woman's  Revenge."  He  wrote  for  the 
New  York  Weekly,  and  every  newsbo}r  devoured  his  produc- 
tions with  avidity.  He  died  b}'  being  choked  to  death  by  a 
patent  standing  collar  while  asleep  in  the  Passumpsic  cars. 

Whitcomb  became  president  of  a  Boston  bank,  director  of 
the  Public  Library,  trustee  of  the  Athenaeum,  and  Mayor  of  the 
city.  He  was  just  the  man  for  Mayor  ;  had  a  boundless  stom- 
ach, plenty  of  wit,  could  address  an}"  kind  of  an  assembly  from 
a  woman's  rights  convention  to  a  firemens'  dinner.     He  married 


58  (LASS    DAY,    '76. 

a  stately  and  beautiful  woman  of  wealth  and  fashion,  and  had 
one  son  who  was  just  like  his  father.  He  was  a  member  of 
Piper's  church,  and  never  happened  to  be  caught  in  any  dis- 
honest transaction.  When  he  died,  there  was  a  gorgeous  funer- 
al. The  city  was  decorated  with  badges  of  mourning ;  all  the 
flags  were  flying  at  half  mast;  the  police  turned  out  with  the 
militia,  the  newsboys,  the  firemen,  the  widows  and  orphans,  and 
the  public  school  children.  It  was  a  successful  affair  and  re- 
flected credit  on  the  committee  in  charge.  There  were  dis- 
charges at  the  grave,  and  a  civic  and  military  memorial  ban- 
quet in  the  evening  at  the  Parker  House. 

Stimson  entered  the  navy,  and  was  one  of  the  most  gallant 
and  daring  young  officers  in  the  service.  He  led  an  expedition 
into  Africa  and  was  captured.  But  he  soon  won  the  hearts  of 
the  tribe  and  was  about  to  leave,  when  the  king  invited  him  to 
choose  a  wife  out  of  three  thousand  young  women  whom  he 
drew  up  in  line  before  him.  Stimurv  in  sore  perplexity  replied 
that  if  he  chose  one,  the  two  thousand  nine  hundred  and  nine- 
ty-nine would  kill  him  out  of  jealousy.  The  king  retired  and 
was  invisible  for  three  days  ;  then  he  ordered  Stimmy  before 
him  and  in  presence  of  the  whole  tribe,  commanded  him  to 
many  all  of  them.  But  Stimmy  escaped,  and  fell,  years  after, 
bravely  fighting  in  battle. 

Tripp  wrote  prize  essa}'s  for  ten  years,  then  went  to  Wash- 
ington and  wrote  for  "smooth  bores;"  became  librarian  of 
Congress,  and,  finally,  reached  the  goal  of  his  ambition — was 
made  clerk  of  a  faculty  down  south,  and  dispensed  marks  with 
fairness  and  liberality. 

Vanderpoel  planned  with  Wertheimer  to  go  to  German)', 
with  Whitcomb  to  go  to  Japan,  with  Morey  to  Thetford,  and 
with  Brooks  to  India,  Then  he  began  all  over  again,  and 
planned  to  marry  his  Brooklyn  daily  correspondent ;  then  he 
resolved  never  to  marry  ;  then  he  made  up  his  mind  to  study 
lawT ;  then  he  determined  not  to  study  law  at  all.  The  sum- 
mer passed.  Still  Lieber  sat  in  his  chair  and  plauned.  His 
room  was  full  of  catalogues,  guide  books,  almanacs,  maps, 
charts,  copies  of  the  N.  Y.  Sun.  Tims  passed  his  life,  grasp- 
ing at  the  tails  of  opportunities,  until  Death  told  him  of  a  little 


•ROriii:cn>. 


59 


travelling  plan  of  his  own,   and  Lieber  fell  in  with  this,   the 
only  plan  which  he  ever  carried  ont. 

Kinerson  went  to  Persia,  and  became  juggler  and  tumbler  to 
the  ruler,  Mahmoud  Hans  Effendi  CXVIII. 

Justice  kept  books  for  a  firm  in  Nashua. 

Peabody,  man  of  multitudinous  plans  and  infinite  accom- 
plishments, bought  out  Bly,  married  one  of  the  club  girls,  and 
took  pictures  in  Hanover  all  his  life. 

The  fair  and  frail  Brimmy  was  next  called  up,  and  a  buzz  of 
expectation  ran  all  over  the  crowded  court  room  as  tie  began. 
He  kept  glancing  nervously  about  him,  "  afraid,"  as  he  apol- 
ogetically remarked,  "that  his  wife  was  near."  After  gradua- 
tion he  tried  to  study  law,  but  kept  falling  in  love  with  every 
girl  he  saw  ;  to  end  his  misery,  and  regardless  of  his  compact 
with  Sam.  Merrill  not  to  marry  within  six  j^ears,  he  resolved 
to  marry  immediately.  But  alas  !  he  couldn't  decide  which 
girl  to  take.  While  in  this  condition  he  was  met  b}^  a  woman 
who  ordered  him  to  marry  her  if  he  didn't  want  to  be  killed. 
Of  course  the  gentle  Brimmy  instantly  complied,  and  led  his 
bride  home.  She  proved  to  be  about  forty  years  old  ;  never 
had  been  prett}^ ;  wras  tall,  bon}T,  rough,  muscular  and  a  regu- 
lar wolf.  She  had  ten  children — all  sons — and  some  of  them 
older  than  Brimmy,  and  the}T  used  to  order  him  around  when 
the  old  woman  wras  not  about.  But  tbe}T  didn't  dare  injure 
"dear  little  poppy"  when  she  was  near.  She  was  literary,  a 
blue  stocking,  and  wrote  novels  all  night  while  Brimmy  tended 
baby.  She  also  dressed  in  bloomer  costume  when  she  appeared 
in  public  with  her  dear  husband.  Long  he  plotted  flight,  but 
what  if  she  should  catch  him.  Once,  indeed,  he  did  venture  out 
without  leave,  but  the  she-tiger  caught  him  and  locked  him  in 
the  cellar  for  three  days.  But  this  did  not  last  forever.  One 
morning  when  Brimmy  awoke  she  was  dead  ;  scarcely  believing 
his  eyes  he  seized  the  boot-jack,  and  dealt  her  two  blows  over 
the  eyes  to  make  sure  of  it.  Then  he  started  for  parts  unknown. 
But  where  should  he  go.  Sam.  was  in  Germany,  and  Brimnry 
was  heart  broken.  But  he  did  not  long  remain  unemployed. 
Officers  of  the  law  were  in  search  of  him  ;  wisely  they  set  a 
watch  on  the  premises  of  all  the  ladies'  seminaries  in  the 
country,  and  in  just  one  week  he  was  captured  on  the  grounds 


60  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

at  Vassar.  He  was  charged  with  murdering  his  wife  ;  she  had 
been  found  dead  with  two  black  marks  over  her  eyes  ;  he  had 
fled.  The  trial  was  short ;  the  facts  were  conclusive.  His 
lawyer  set  up  a  plea  of  insanit}T,  and  brought  up  fifty  witnesses 
to  prove  it.  But  judgment  descended,  and  one  Friday  morn- 
ing saw  the  condemned  man  led  forth  out  of  the  prison  doors, 
and  the  next  day  his  remains  were  sold  to  the  Medical  College 
at  Hanover,  and  his  cranium  to  deck  a  phrenologist's  window  in 
Boston.  Alas  !  poor  Brimnry  ;  his  sad  tale  made  e'en  the  very 
devils  weep. 

Sanborn  lived  a  quiet  life  on  his  peaceful  farm  with  his  sen- 
sible wife.  He  never  made  any  undue  noise  in  the  house  or 
abroad.  He  always  plowed  with  oxen,  and  his  quiet  jogging 
old  horse,  that  slowly  and  steadily  trotted  him  to  town  in  his 
old  fashioned,  slow-moving,  easy-going,  orthodox,  rattling 
"  shay,"  never  ran  away  or  kicked.  Sanborn  wore  a  black  stock 
neck-tie  on  Sundays,  and  his  boots  squeaked  just  a  little  when 
he  handed  around,  with  a  placid  smile,  the  contribution  box. 
In  all  his  life  he  never  swore,  shot  off  a  gun,  or  tasted  ardent 
spirits,  and  cured  all  his  ailments  with  herb  tea. 
.  Williams  lived  in  a  tub,  and  was  for  a  long  time  amazed  be- 
cause the  world  did  not  worship  him.  He  then  became  a  pes- 
simist and  a  misanthrope,  until  one  clay  happening  to  look  up- 
wards, he  discovered  that  there  was  a  dazzling  light  in  the  sky. 
He  asked  some  one  what  that  was,  and  they  informed  him  that 
it  was  the  sun,  and  had  been  shining  for  six  thousand  3-ears. 
Henceforth,  he  withdrew  his  criticism  from  men,  and  sought  to 
find  some  flaw  in  the  sun,  for  it  was  contrary  to  his  doctrine 
that  anything  was  perfect.  At  once  he  made  a  grand  discoveiy. 
The  sun,  which,  to  other  people  was  dazzling,  when  seen  through 
the  green  tinge  which  colored  everything  to  his  eyes,  was  so  dim 
that  he  saw  it  was  covered  with  black  specks.  This  was  the 
first  men  knew  of  sun  spots,  and  Williams  forever  afterward 
spent  his  days  in  gloating  over  and  counting  them. 

Banct  1  became  a  jolly  little  country  doctor,  and  rode  about 
in  a  little  bobbing  gig,  drawn  by  a  short-stepping  little  bob- 
tailed  rat  of  a  horse.  He  could  cure  fits,  and  if  any  one  had 
any  other  disease,  he  changed  it  to  fits  and  cured  them.  If  he 
couldn't  do  this  the  patient  died.      He  was  called  the  little  wood- 


PR0PHE4  tES.  61 

chuck,  because  he  made  so  many  holes  in  the  ground.  But  he 
didn't  kill  so  many  patients  as  other  doctors,  because,  perhaps, 
lu'  didn't  have  so  many  patients  as  other  doctors.  But  he  must 
have  improved  the  health  of  his  district,  for  his  practise  contin- 
ually decreased,  and,  after  his  own  death,  no  one  in  the  district 
vlied  from  sickness  for  twenty  }Tears. 

Towle  became  a  Yankee  peddler,  and  swapped  horses,  and 
talked  politics,  and  "  rather  guessed  he  knew  a  thing  or  two." 
lie  never  did  very  much  in  the  world,  because  Sherburne  had 
married  somebod}'  else,  and  nobod}*  seemed  to  think  he  knew 
much  about  anything  in  particular.  He  was  fond  of  la}ring 
deep  plans  for  very  indifferent  ends,  and  had  a  curious  habit  of 
winking  slyly  and  smiling  very  knowingly  when  nothing  par- 
ticular was  up.  Somehow  people  got  impressed  with  the  idea 
that  he  knew  some  might}'  mysterious  secret  that  would  appall 
and  astound  the  world,  were  he  to  reveal  it.  But  he  always 
smiled  and  hinted  darkly  when  any  one  questioned  him  about 
it.  and  never  told  the  mighty  mystery.  Finally,  he  died,  un- 
noticed by  the  historians  of  the  world,  as  he  had  been  by  the 
historians  of  the  class,  and  for  the  same  reason. 

Perry's  talents  fitted  him  for  but  one  position,  viz.  :  the  ed- 
itorship of  The  New  York  Sun.  This  he  graciously  took  out 
of  Dana's  hands,  thanking  him  for  his  trouble  in  starting  it  for 
him. 

Doc.  French  took  all  his  good  clothes  to  Manchester,  and, 
after  several  }Tears  of  perplexit}T  as  to  which  was  the  prettiest 
girl  in  New  England,  married  a  widow,  homel}T,  fifty  }Tears  old, 
with  twelve  children  and  no  mone}\  Doc.  tried  to  support  the 
family  manfully,  and  acted  as  waiter  in  a  restaurant  for  a  time  ; 
but  he  broke  down,  poor  fellow,  and  one  night,  kissing  his  wife 
farewell,  he  took  from  his  trunk  his  graduation  clothes,  left  the 
house,  and  next  morning  was  found  petrified  before  the  show 
window  of  a  necktie  store.  His  widow  carried  out  his  last 
wishes,  and  sold  him  to  the  proprietor  as  a  dummy  to  display 
new  styles  upon,  for  $11.50. 

Twombly  was  a  phrenologist  and  traveling  mesmerist.  He 
was  a  man  of  thought.  He  thought  out  all  the  problems  in  At- 
u  ater's  Logic  and  Mother  Goose.  He  grew  sober,  sedate,  quiet. 
Soon  that  great  question  which  had  perplexed  all  the  ancient 


62  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

philosophers  came  to  him  for  solution,  viz  :  whether  the  owl  or 
the  owl's  egg  was  created  first.  He  couldn't  solve  it.  He  be- 
came buried  in  thought.  People  called  him  "  the  mysterious 
one."  He  spoke  to  none,  and  gave  up  eating.  Then  they 
placed  him  in  the  Boston  Museum,  where  for  a  hundred  years 
he  gazed,  with  glass}'  eye,  on  a  stuffed  owl  and  a  china  egg. 

Ben  Roberts'  literary  talents  at  once  secured  him  a  position 
on  the  "New  York  Tribune"  and  he  soon  supplanted  AVhite- 
law  Reid  as  editor.  His  great  work  in  life  was  the  foundation 
of  the  "New  York  Emersonio-Plautonic-Wordsworthio-Tenny- 
sonnian  Circle."  It  was  composed  of  literary  ladies.  They 
were  to  live  together  in  a  state  of  perpetual  platonic  friendship, 
and  devote  all  their  energies  to  the  cultivation  and'  improve- 
ment of  the  mind.  Of  course  he  was  president,  Phebe  Cozzens 
vice-president,  the  sisters  Smith  of  Glastenbury,  treasurer, 
Ann  S.  Stephens,  secretary  ;  and  Anna  Dickenson,  Mrs.  Liver- 
more,  Ann  Eliza  Young  and  others,  prominent  members.  The 
buildings  were  erected  in  the  midst  of  a  grove.  A  large  chapel 
in  the  centre  was  filled  with  worshippers  every  morning ; 
the  shrine  held  a  bust  of  Emerson,  whom  all  worshipped.  Every 
member  was  to  wear  kid  gloves,  and  talk  transcendentalism. 
Any  one  guilty  of  a  pun,  or  of  sneezing  aloud,  was  to  be  shot. 
The  mornings  were  given  to  essay  writing,  and  the  evenings  to 
reading  of  the  same,  with  conversation.  Monday  evenings 
Ben  read  Tennyson  to  them  ;  Tuesday  evenings  he  told  them  about 
his  lad}T  friends  at  Oberlin  ;  Wednesday  evening  they  discuss- 
ed on  culture  and  refinement,  and  admired  each  other.  Finally 
Ben  was  expelled  ;  one  evening  while  listening  to  a  discourse 
on  Thoreau,  he  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  smoke  a  cigarette 
in  the  presence  of  the  ladies.  Immediately  and  forthwith, 
every  Platonic  and  Tennysonian  female  arose,  drove  him  with 
loathing  from  the  Eden  which  he  had  created,  and  purged  their 
insulted  society  by  the  expulsion  of  the  vile  man  Roberts. 
After  this  Ben  vowed  he  would  never  marry,  but,  unwise  man, 
tie  was  caught  in  this  wise;:  a  lady  poet  sent  week  after  week, 
and  month  after  month,  poetry  to  the  "Tribune  ;"  it  was  in- 
variably returned.  Soon  the  matter  was  brought  to  the  notice 
<.('  the  editor;  then  he  wrote  in  mighty  haste  a  most  violent 
<-U<t  to  the  lad}',  bidding  her  send  no   more  such   stuff  In  the 


PR0PHB4  [ES.  63 

paper.  The  lady  couldn'1  read  the  letter;  her  friends  said  it 
was  an  offer  of  marriage  from  the  editor  of  the  "  Tribune  f  the 
lady  sent  a  gracious  acceptance.  Ben  went  before  the  courts. 
The  judge,  jury,  and  entire  court  sustained  the  lady's  transla- 
tion of  the  letter,  and  so  Ben  fell.  His  subsequent  career  was 
honorable  and  useful,  and  he  became  known  as  the  best  writer 
and  philosopher  of  the  day. 

Hibbard  entered  the  bar  without  examination  or  study.  He 
needed  neither,  'cause  why :  lie  could  argue.  It  didn't  matter 
what  the  revised  statutes  said,  or  the  facts  showed.  Whatever 
side  he  was  on  won.  He  could  argue  a  man  into  anything. 
He  could  prove  that  the  moon  was  green  cheese,  and  therefore 
inhabited  ;  that  the  world  was  square,  round,  flat,  upside  clown, 
or  that  there  was  no  world  at  all.  He  proved  once  to  a  man 
that  he  couldn't  and  wouldn't  feel  hungry  for  a  week,  and  the 
man  starved  to  death.  This  brought  him  up  for  murder  ;  but 
Hibbard  was  prepared  and,  when  it  came  his  turn  to  speak,  he 
took  the  position  that  the  man  was  not  dead,  and  proceeded  so 
logically  and  irresistably  that  the  facts  themselves  had  to  give 
Way,  and  to  the  horror  of  all  present  the  dead  man,  finding  his 
position  utterl}'  untenable,  receded  at  once  from  it,  opened 
his  eyes,  and  rose  to  his  feet  alive  and  well ;  and  Hibbard  was 
as  bland  and  pleasant  about  it  as  could  be,  as  he  laughed  one 
of  his  merry  chuckles,  twisted  his  hands  and  stood  on  the  other 
leg.  But  he  had  a  rival  in  Stimpson  who,  in  some  respects, 
was  even  more  logical.  Stimpson  was  the  first  to  accomplish 
that  difficult  task  of  arguing  down  an  angry  Irish  woman.  But 
this  took  him  fifteen  minutes,  whereas  Hibbard  could  take  the 
same  woman,  have  her  drunk  in  the  bargain,  and  do  the  job 
completely  and  nicely  in  fourteen  minutes.  Both  sophists  met 
a  common  fate ;  happening  one  da}',  while  travelling  together 
on  an  unfrequented  road,  to  come  to  a  fork  in  the  road,  Hib- 
bard ventured  to  suggest  that  very  probably  the  one  on  the 
right  hand  led  more  directly  to  their  destination  than  the  one 
on  the  left,  at  least  so  it  seemed  to  him.  Stimpson,  of  course, 
opposed  this  view  decidedly  ;  knew  the  other  was  the  right  one, 
and  what  was  more  could  prove  it.  Thus  began  that  dire  argu- 
ment which  caused  their  fate  to  fall.  The}-  stopped  the  horse 
and  began  to  argue  :   morning  wore  away,  dinner  time  passed, 


64  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

evening  came  ;  one  day  fled  away,  two  da}'s,  a  week,  a  month, 
three  months,  a  3rear,  ten,  twenty,  thirty  years  passed  without 
any  decision ;  and  one  day  as  a  stranger,  for  the  first  time 
passed  by,  after  the  lapse  of  a  hundred  years,  he  discovered  at 
the  fork  of  the  road,  the  skeleton  of  a  horse,  the  rusty  remains 
of  a  wagon,  while  in  the  ruins  were  the  bon}*  remnants  of  two 
pairs  of  fingers  rapidly  and  hurriedly  crossing  and  uncrossing 
themselves  in  heated  argumentation. 

Sherburne  wrote  books  for  bo}*s  in  the  Oliver  Optic  stj'le,  and 
soon  gained  the  title  of  "The  Children's  Friend,"  although  he 
assumed  the  nom  of  "  37oung  feller."  Then  he  wrote  poetr}7 ; 
several  of  his  pieces  were  widely  read, — one  in  particular,  "To 
the  Morn,"  and  another,  "To  Summer."  It  was  the  kind  in 
which  "trees"  was  invariably  followed  by  "breeze,"  "skies" 
by  "  e}Tes,"  etc.  He  became  a  regular  correspondent  of  the 
"  Lady's  Magazine."  Then  he  entered  into  active  service  in 
the  woman's  rights  campaign,  ran  for  Governor  on  that  ticket 
and  was  defeated.  In  fine,  he  became  a  second  Col.  Higginson. 
All  through  life  he  loved  to  smoke  cigarettes  and  wear  very  at- 
tenuated canes.  While  Sherburne  was  yet  speaking  the  pro- 
ceedings were  interrupted  by  a  violent  commotion  without. 
Something  had  happened. 

Shrieks  were  heard,  and  trampling  of  feet ;  the  door  burst  in 
with  a  loud  noise,  and  a  fugitive  fell  fainting  to  the  floor ;  the 
whole  assembly  rose  with  pale  and  affrighted  faces.  A  second 
fugitive  rushed  in  and  gasped  out  "Crawfl"  and  expired. 
Even*  man  looked  in  his  neighbor's  face  \  a  whisper  ran  around 
the  room.     The   horrible  truth   flashed   like  lightning  through 

OCT  CT 

every  soul ;  Crawford  was  loose  \  was  coining  ;  was  near  ;  was 
cleaning  out  Hades,  drainage,  sewers,  pig  pens,  health  board, 
school  committee,  and  all.  A  cry  arose,  "  Crawford  is  loose  ! 
Fly  I  Fly!  Fly  I"  Then  arose  confusion  and  terror  ;  judge, 
jury  and  devil,  in  promiscuous  and  intermingled  flight,  rushed 
headlong  from  the  spot.  Flames  darted  forth,  thunder  pealed, 
and  sulphur  smells  filled  the  air;,  crash  upon  crash  and  peal 
ipou  peal  followed;,  black,  forms  began  to  appear.  In  the 
nidst, — Oh  !  horrors! — I  saw  a  grisly,  bearded  face,  grinning 
fearfully,  breathing  forth  smoke  from  the  extended  nostrils,  and 
glaring  red  lightning  from  the  eyes,  his  shoulders  working  up 


PROPHECIES.  DO 

and  down  like  the  walking  beam  of  a  North  River  steamboat! 
He  was  upon  me.  He  smote — I  awoke.  I  found  myself  in 
Balch's  woods  again.  I  saw  the  Lights  of  Hanover  sparkle  and 
glimmer  through  the  trees,  while  the  rural  sound  of  lowing  cat- 
tle which  were  grazing  quietly  on  the  fields  of  the  aforemen- 
tioned N*.  II.  C.  A.  &  M.  A.,  and  the  distant  blare  of  a  Fresh- 
man's horn  soothed  and  re-assured  me.  The  College  bell  tolled 
out  the  hour  of  nine.  I  had  slept,  as  you  have  just  now  done, 
one  hour. 


Class  Tree  Oration. 


BY  BENSON  H.  ROBERTS,  ROCHESTER,  N.   Y. 


The  pith  of  all  history  is  revealed  by  symbols.  Every  nation 
since  the  pastoral  days  of  the  Patriarchs  has  possessed  its  own 
S37stem  and  type  of  symbolization  ;  through  which  the  watch- 
words and  principles  which  have  been  found  true,  have  been 
compressed  into  most  terse,  succinct  and  graphic  expression. 
Both  religious  and  secular  life  have  resorted  to  this  as  a  fit  me- 
dium through  which  to  transmit  to  future  ages,  principles  and 
the  inenior}'  of  events.  The  children  of  Israel  followed  the  pil- 
lar of  cloud  by  day,  and  the  pillar  of  fire  by  night,  guarding  with 
religious  care  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant ;  each  of  these  symbolic 
of  the  relationship  of  the  great  Jehovah  to  the  Israelites.  The 
TTCgis  of  Zeus,  and  the  owl  of  Pallas  Athenae  spoke  to  the 
Greek  of  the  power  of  the  Cloud  Collector,  at  whose  nod 
Olympus  shook,  and  of  the  wisdom  of  the  Virgin  Goddess  who 
bestowed  upon  her  devotees 

"Self-reverence,  self-knowledge,  self-control, 
Which  three  alone  lead  to  sovereign  power." 

The  soldier  of  the  Roman  cohorts  with  proud  courage  pressed 

through  the  hottest  fight,  eager  to  gain  a  place  near  the  eagle 

of  his  legion,  for  there,  near  the  standard,  he  chose  to  die,  if 

eed  be,  for  the  standard. 
Symbolism  is  the   language  whereby   one   nation   speaks  to 
••not her,  whereby  the  deeds  of  valor  of  ancient  warriors  and  the 

ise  statesmanship  of  ancient  senators  are  perpetuated,  and 
handed,  fresh  and  glowing  with  patriotism,  to  modern  nations. 


I  I   \>s   TREE    ORATION.  67 

It  is  tlic  Language  whereby  the  infant  makes, known  its  wants, 
nn»l  that  inspires  the  peaceful  husbandman  to  seize  the  cruel 
weapons  of  war  in  the  day  of  dire  need,  and  gives  to  his  heart 
courage  to  smite  with  heavy  blows,  his  oppressor. 

The  prosperity  of  Eg3Tpt  was  dependant  upon  the  overflowing 
of  the  Nile,  which  thus  brought  fertility  to  the  soil  and  food  to 
the  people,  hence  we  find  in  Egyptian  architecture  the  prevail- 
ing form  of  ornamentation  is  the  lotus  flower — the  water  lily  of 
the  Nile.  Upon  this  subject  of  symbolism  a  modern  writer 
says:  "No  better  illustration  of  both  the  aesthetic  and  sym- 
bolic is  found  than  the  legend  of  that  beautiful  little  blue  flower 
that  is  found  b}'  every  stream  and  in  every  meadow  of  Old 
England,  and  is  welcomed  by  many  who  frequent  the  glades 
and  brooks  of  our  New  England.  The  legend  handed  down 
through  many  generations  is  this  :  a  j'oung  knight  and  his  true 
love  were  wandering  on  the  margin  of  a  river,  discoursing  upon 
the  theme  which,  invented  by  Adam  and  Eve  in  Paradise,  main- 
tains its  interest  to  this  da}',  albeit  no  other  subject,  perhaps, 
has  been  so  generally  discussed,  or  has  resulted  in  such 
unanimity  of  opinion.  A  subject  now  called  from  its  great  an- 
tiquity the  old,  old  stoiy,  ever  fresh  and  new,  and  interesting 
to  those  who  tell  it,  as  to  those  who  hear  it,  for  time  cannot 
>tale  nor  custom  wither  its  variet}T.  In  an  interval  of  wooing, 
the  "fayre  ladaye"  caught  sight  of  a  cluster  of  blue  coronals, 
rivalling  the  beauty  of  her  own  eyes  and  the  tint  of  the 
heaven  above,  growing  in  rich  wantoness  on  the  bank  oppo- 
site. An  expression  of  admiration  and  of  a  wish  to  possess 
them,  sent  the  gallant  knight  of  that  chivalrous  age  plunging 
into  the  stream  ;  battling  bravely  with  the  flood  he  gained  the 
flowers.  The  swimmer  was  strong,  but  the  waves  ran  high, 
and  though  near  enough  to  cast  the  coveted  flowers  at  his  lady's 
feet,  he  was  swept  down  the  turbulent  stream,  sending  back 
his  farewell,  "forget-me-not."  Since  which  time  that  flower 
has  been  consecrated  to  lovers,  and  to-day  is  the  symbol  of 
faithfulness  and  true  love. 

The  same  bravery  in  family  life  may  be  illustrated  b}T  an  an- 
ecdote. UA  gentleman  inquired  the  meaning  of  the  motto  on 
the  crest  of  a  family  named  Cross.  The  motto  read  :  "  Credo 
Cruce"  —  "  Believe   in   the  Cross."      The   answer    came  very 


68  CLASS    DAY,    '76. 

sirnpl}*,  that  no  Cross  of  that  famity  was  ever  known  to  tell  a 
lie.  Such  symbolism  as  that  is  as  noble  as  it  is  simple,  and, 
moreover,  teaches  a  whole  system  of  morality.  The  Round 
Table  of  Arthur,  with  no  chief  seat,  no  prominent  place,  was 
symbolic  of  the  equality  which  existed  between  those  who  were 
knights  in  truth  ;  who  had  received  not  merely  upon  their  necks, 
but  even  upon  their  heart,  the  accolade  of  truest  knighthood 
from  the  guileless  prince,  the  good  King  Arthur.  We  have 
only  to  call  to  mind  the  rapid  beating  of  our  hearts,  when  we 
first  heard,  with  quickened  senses,  the  stirring  notes  of  our  na- 
tional music,  or  when  for  the  first  time  we  grasped  the  mystery 
of  the  stars  and  stripes,  of  the  waving  banners,  to  realize  the 
force  of  this  language  of  sjanbolism.  To  appreciate  the  com- 
prehensive, catholic  and  varied  use  of  this  language,  which  no 
period,  nation,  caste  or  guild  can  call  its  own,  though  used  b}' 
all,  we  have  only  to  recall  the  Roman  fasces,  the  hammer  of 
Thor,  the  oak  of  the  Druid,  the  ash  of  the  Norseman,  the  lau- 
rel, olive,  myrtle,  and  holly,  the  plant-a-genet  or  broom  corn  of 
the  Plantagenets,  who  ruled  England  for  three  centuries ;  the 
Jleur-de-lis  of  France ;  the  red  rose  and  the  white  rose,  which 
cost  England  so  much  honest  blood  ;  and  last,  that  most  potent 
symbol,  the  Cross,  which,  graven  on  heart  and  shield,  has 
nerved  man}r  a  weary  knight  to  meet  with  keen  joy  the  crescent 
of  the  hated  Prophet  on  the  sandy  wastes  of  Syria  ;  the  thought 
of  which  has  cheered  martyrs  at  the  stake,  and  strengthened 
the  fainting  souls  of  zealous  missioners  in  American  forest 
and  African  jungle. 

This  same  use  we  see  to-day.  We  build  costly  monuments 
and  stately  towers ;  sonnets  are  written,  and  songs  are  sung  to 
commemorate  the  deeds  of  our  contemporaries.  Our  action 
here  to-day  is  of  the  same  nature.  We  plant  an  elm  tree,  that 
it  may  bear  testimony  to  our  presence  and  sojourn  in  these  clas- 
sic walks.  We  do  well  thus  to  signalize  our  presence  here, 
even  as  our  fathers  did  in  their  day.  But  the  elm  which  we 
low  dedicate  is  not  a  mere  monument,  testifying  that  we  once 
ibode  here, — with  more  fitness  such  monument  would  be  a 
oarble  effigy  or  brazen  tablet, — it  is  more  than  that;  it  even 
symbolizes  our  future.  The  sapling  must  receive  the  grateful 
■:«in  and  heal  <>(*  many  summers  ere  it  becomes  a  tall  tree,  with 


(1  ASS    TREK    ORATION.  69 

graceful;  pendulous  branches,  far  reaching.  It  needs  the  winds 
pf  winter,  that  its  roots  may  strike  deeply  and  firmly  into  the 
nourishing  earth.     We  plant  a  sapling. 

Its  ftiture  is  growth. 

Fitly  indicating  the  character  of  our  future,  for  without 
growth  there  is  death.  The  youth  must  grow  to  perfect  man- 
hood, else  he  is  even  less  a  man. 

This  perfect  manhood,  what  is  it?  A  man  may  have  traversed 
the  fields  of  ancient  and  modern  history,  grasping  with  firm 
hand  the  historic  knowledge  of  Curtius,  Moramsen  and  Froude  ; 
by  patient  research  he  may  become  as  learned  as  Herschel  or 
Newton  in  astronomy ;  the  subtle  and  infinite  processes  of 
mathematics  may  be  familiar  to  his  mind  ;  the  languages  of  an- 
cient and  modern  nations  ma}'  flow  with  facility  from  his  tongue  ; 
in  plrysics,  chemistry  and  natural  history  he  may  stand  on 
sure  footing  ;  by  close  thought  the  problems  which  engaged  the 
powers  of  Plato,  and  vexed  the  midnight  hours  of  Confucius, 
and  in  later  time  challenged  the  intellectual  strength  of  Bacon, 
Hobbes,  Descartes,  Kant,  Mill  and  Spencer,  may  be  well  under- 
stood and  partially  solved.  This  is  much !  To  such  an  one 
high  homage  would  be  paid.  He  would  wear  with  becoming 
grace  the  wreath,  which  the  princes  in  intellect  would  place  on 
his  brow,  for  worth  would  crown  the  wreath.  This  is  much ! 
Such  acquisition  would  bring  into  play  powers  which  could  do 
all,  save  create  new  worlds  ;  but  much  more  remains  to  be  done, 
ere  perfect  manhood  is  reached.  The  heart  must  receive  cul- 
ture, else  this  store  of  learning  may  be  perverted  to  false  and 
unworthy  ends,  becoming  a  source  of  misery  to  him,  rather 
than  a  fount  of  blessing.  Instead  of  a  man  of  large  mould, 
to  whom  his  fellow-men  are  dear,  we  ma}^  have  a  splendid  vil- 
lain, a  Caesar  Borgia.  The  heart,  the  mind,  and  the  bod}-  are 
united  by  subtle  chords  ;  each  S3'mpathizes  with  the  other.  In 
the  primal  man  these  three  elements  were  in  equilibrium. 
The  whole  suffers  when  part  is  diseased.  An  over  develop- 
ment of  one  element  argues  a  dwarfed  growth  of  the  others, 
and  thus  renders  impossible  the  sj^mmetrical  whole.  The 
ascetics,  and  recluses  of  all  ages  owe  their  failure  to  attain  the 
end  desired,  in  great  measure,  to  their  practical  denial  of  the 
wisdom  of  the  Creator,  in  striving,  as  they  did,  to  attain  per- 


70  CLASS     DAY,    '76. 

feet  manhood,  by  lopping  off  the  truly  human  desires  and 
needs,  which  were  divinely  implanted,  instead  of  training  the 
will,  and  cultivating  those  faculties  of  the  heart,  which  in  the 
scheme  of  human  organism  were  designed  to  act  as  balance 
wheels,  as  checks  on  the  plrysical  nature. 

The  skillful  and  wise  surgeon  resorts  to  cauteiy  and  ampu- 
tation onlv  in  cases  of  aggravated  disease.  The  health}'  plant 
needs  pruning  to  be  sure,  but  much  more  it  needs  training  and 
freedom. 

The  whole  of  culture  is  expressed  in  few  words — merely  to 
regain  the  harmony  and  restore  the  equipoise  of  physical,  men- 
tal and  moral  powers  which  has  been  so  sadly  distracted. 
The  means  to  attain  this  end  are,  not  knowledge  alone,  though 
she  is  possessed  of  great  beauty,  the  younger  child  of  wisdom, 

"  Let  her  know  her  place, 
She  is  the  second,  not  the  first, — " 
yet 

"A  higher  hand  must  make  her  mild 
If  all  be  not  in  vain," 

and  this  hand  is  stretched  forth  by  "  wisdom  heavenly  of  the 
soul." 

With  the  Greek  poet,  Simonides,  we  must  remember  how 
worthy  the  end,  and  that 

"  To  manhood's  heights  who  would  aspire, 
Must  spurn  each  sensual  low  desire, 
Must  never  falter,  never  tire, 
But  on  !  with  sweat  drops  of  the  soul." 

This  it  is  that  this  tree  symbolizes  to  us  to-day.  The  Scotch 
laird,  on  his  death  bed,  said  to  his  son,  "Jock,  when  tha  ha 
na  else  to  do,  plant  a  tree;  'twill  grow  when  tha  art  asleep," 
which  is  high  philosophy.  Just  so  the  youth  "crescit  occulto 
velut  arbor" — grows  like  a  tree  in  the  night, — to  that  manhood 
which  is  polished  and  refined.  "The  "  ho  mine m  art  unguem." 
The  manhood,  which, 

"  Gaining  in  sweetness  and  moral  height 

Retain  the  wrestling  thews  that  throw  the  world." 


Class  Ode. 


Air — "Auld Lang  Syne- 


BY  CHAS.  IV.  WHITCOMB,  BOSTON,  MASS 


I. 

Dear  Alma  Mater  round  thy  shrine, 

Girt  with  the  moss  of  years, 
Fond  memory  twines  the  vine  of  love, 

As  the  hour  of  parting  nears. 
Tis  here  we've  wrought  the  golden  chain 

That  binds  each  heart  with  thine, 
And  lengthened  in  each  link  we'll  see 

A  tie  of  Auld  Lang  Syne. 

II. 

Adown  the  stream  of  college  days 

We've  glided  side  by  side, 
'Till  now  life's  stormy  sea  we  face, 

And  each  his  bark  must  guide. 
But  as  we  venture  on  the  deep, 

And  with  the  world's  throng  mix, 
Be  unto  each  a  beacon-light, 

Our  dear  old  Seventy-Six. 

III. 

And  may  God  grant  unto  us  all, 

When  the  sands  of  life  are -run, 
To  hear  proclaimed  the  welcome  words, 

"I  say  to  thee — well  done." 
But  lo,  the  parting  moments  fly, 

And  closing  shades  foretell, 
We  now  with  faltering  tongues  must  bid 

Farewell,  farewell,  farewell 


Address  at  the  Old  Pine. 


BY  EDWARD  C.  STIMSON,  PORTSMOUTH,  N.  H. 


Our  class-day  exercises  are  now  nearly  finished,  and  the  time 
has  come  for  our  last  farewell.  Together  we  have  recounted 
the  scenes  of  our  college  life ;  our  prophet  has  disclosed  the 
future  of  our  lives,  and  by  his  divining  art  has  shown  what 
good  or  ill,  what  sunshine  or  shadow  lies  before  us. 

Here  at  the  foot  of  this  old  tree,  whose  life  has  witnessed  so 
many  gatherings  similar  to  this,  we  have  met  to  bid  farewell  to 
the  scenes  endeared  to  us  by  our  four  years'  association  writh 
them  ;  to  extend  to  each  other  the  hand  of  friendship  ;  to  sep- 
arate. 

The  classes  preceding  us,  as  they  left  these  halls,  have  met 
as  we  now  meet,  and  it  is  fitting  that  we  should  come  as  they 
have  come,  and  receive  from  this  noble  Pine — this  patriarch  of 
the  hill — its  benediction  as  we  separate. 

Classmates  :  through  the  college  life  that  now  lies  just  behind 
we  have  toiled  together  as  members  of  one  class — as  a  band  of 
brothers ;  we  have  been  accustomed  to  assist  one  another,  to 
encourage  one  another,  and  in  times  of  trouble  have  stood  well 
together ;  we  have,  also,  shared  the  pleasures  connected  with 
our  course,  and,  so  far  as  has  been  possible,  have  enjoyed  them 
in  common. 

Now  opens  before  us  the  life  that  is  real,  and  the  work  we 
arc  fco  accomplish  is  awaiting  our  coming  ;  henceforth  our  paths 
diverge,  and  in  a  few  short  hours  we  shall  leave  all  this,  for  the 
Life  thai  is  beyond  ;  for  the  Life  that  holds  for  us  such   grand 


ADDRESS    AT    THE    OLD    PINE.  (6 

possibilities  and  expected  successes.  We  look  to  the  future, 
and  Hope,  beckoning,  urges  us  forward  to  strive  with  those  al- 
ready in  the  field  ;  we  dream  of  struggles  with  adversit}r,  of 
trials  and  danger  to  be  encountered  ere  our  journey  is  done, 
hut  with  more  or  less  certainty,  all  of  us  are  looking  for  final 
success. 

From  what  we  have  seen  of  the  outside  world,  we  are  brought 
to  the  realization  of  the  fact,  unpleasant  though  it  may  be,  that 
to  many  will  come  only  failure  and  bitter  disappointment;  we 
know  that  a  very  small  portion  of  our  number  will  come  to  the 
fulness  of  their  ambitions,  but  Hope  again  inspires  us,  and 
each  of  us  looks  for  his  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  successful 
few.  The  broad  field  of  practical  life  now  spreads  before  us  ; 
from  the  boundary  where  we  are  now  standing,  we  can  see 
many  laborers,  each  striving  for  the  first  place  in  his  particular 
branch  of  the  general  industry,  anxiously  seeking  for  the  great- 
est possible  good  to  himself  and  his.  Among  this  busy  throng 
we  are  soon  to  undertake  our  work,  each  for  himself,  and  each 
to  struggle  with  the  masses  already  in  the  field ;  we  must  sum- 
mon what  persistence  and  earnestness  of  purpose  is  at  our 
command,  and  without  faltering,  push  onwaid  to  the  goal  that 
lies  beyond. 

We  recall  the  obstacles  we  have  alreacly  overcome,  consider 
the  work  we  have  already  accomplished,  and  by  these  reflec- 
tions and  the  knowledge  of  the  hopes  of  fond  friends  centered 
in  us  we  are  incited  to  work  hard,  to  make  the  most  of  our  op- 
portunities, to  accomplish  the  greatest  possible  good  for  our- 
selves, our  country  and  our  God. 

Another  chapter  in  our  lives  has  been  written ;  it  stands  as 
it  is,  and  not  a  line  can  be  altered  ;  if  mistakes  have  been  made, 
let  them  warn  us  in  our  writing  of  the  coming  pages ;  and  if 
the  writing  has  been  well  done,  let  that  success  be  our  encour- 
agement in  the  future.  We  certainly  shall  look  for  guidance 
and  assistance  from  those  who  have  gone  before  us,  but  not  in 
the  extent  we  have  experienced  during  that  portion  of  our  lives 
just  passed.  Not  only  from  our  teachers  have  we  received  in- 
struction and  aid,  but  from  our  classmates  have  come  friendly 
counsel  and  advice  which  can  only  be  offered  by  those  to  whom 
close  connection  and  intimacy  have  given  the  right  to  speak. 


74  (LASS     DAY,    '76. 

Here  we  have  forged  links  in  the  chain  of  friendship,  which 
time  instead  of  corroding  shall  serve  only  to  strengthen ;  asso- 
ciations, upon  which  we  shall  from  the  future  look  back  with 
the  fondest  recollections  and  most  pleasant  feelings,  and  we 
carry  with  us  as  we  leave  "memories  which  shall  cheer." 
May  our  hearts  ever  grow  warm,  and  the  blood  move  more 
quickly  through  our  veins,  when  we  recall  our  days  in  old 
Dartmouth  as  members  of  the  class  of '76. 

Old  Tree !  look  down  in  kindness  on  us  as  we  part,  and  as 
thou  hast  done  as  the  classes  have  gone  before  us,  bestow  on 
each  thy  blessing  as  we  separate. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


3  0112  110180947 


